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THE HALLIG 


OR, 


THE SHEEPFOLD IN THE WATERS. 


A TALE OF 

PwinWe fife m (![oast of SoUosloig. 


TRANSLATED FROM 


THE GEiJMAN OE BIERN ATZKI, 


.JoU 




BY 

MRS. GEORGE P. MARSH. 


WITH 

A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OE THE AUTHOR. 


“ On that lone shore loud moans the sea.” 



BOSTON: 

GOUED AND LINOOL N, 

' • 

69 WASHINGTON STREET. 

NEW YORK; SHELDON, BLAKEMAN & CO., 
CINCINNATI ; GEORGE S. BLANCHARD. 

1 8 5 7 . 


TZs 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, hy 
GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

in the Clerk’ s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts, 


Qirr 

•*«5SS LETITIA THcfMAS 
3 , 1940 


STEEEOTYPED BT 

THOMAS B. SMITH 
S2&84 Beekman St.N.Y. 


TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. 


The work now offered to the public for the first time, 
as it is supposed, in an English dress, has received much 
commendation in Germany as a highly interesting contri- 
bution to the physical geography of a part of Europe 
lying quite beyond the reach of ordinary observation, 
and as a genial and faithful sketch of human life under 
conditions which are hardly paralleled elsewhere. Its 
descriptive portions are believed to be scrupulously ac- 
curate, and though a thread of fiction has been woven 
into the narrative, yet its leading incidents are historical 
facts, and many of the most striking of them were drawn 
from the personal experience of the author. 

^N'or has the theology which pervades the volume been 
thought to detract from its merits, even by those who 
dissent from the doctrines inculcated. The divinity of 


IV 


iranslator’s preface. 


Pastor Hold is the divinity of his flock. The religion of 
a people is as influential in the formation of their national 
character as any other element, and if we would rightly 
estimate their social, moral, and intellectual condition, 
we must become acquainted with* their faith, as well as 
with the form of their government and the spirit of their 
laws. 

The religious opinions of Biernatzki, except upon the 
obscure subject of consubstantiation, do not essentially 
vary from those received by most denominations in this 
country, and whatever differences may exist on this 
point, all Avill approve the devout spirit of the author, 
and the tone of his moral precepts. While, therefore, 
the theology of “The Hallig” will offend none, its skill- 
ful and picturesque delineations of nature and of man, in 
their reciprocal action under new and strange relations, 
will, it is hoped, interest and instruct a large class of 
readers. 

The style of Biernatzki is in general unexceptionable, 
but his partiality for oriental literature has sometimes be- 
trayed him into the adoption of a more figurative mode 
of expression than is quite consistent with the soberer 
taste of the best European writers. The translator has not 
thought herself authorized to retrench much of this ex- 
uberance, or to take other liberties with the text than 


translator’s preface. 


.V 


those necessary changes which are inseparable from all at- 
tempts to mold ideas conceived in one language into the 
forms required by the idiom and genius of another. 

The biographical sketch which precedes the volume is 
abridged from a life of the author by his son. It pre- 
sents little of incident or interest, except as it is con- 
nected with Biernatzki’s life as a Hallig preacher, and it 
has therefore been restricted to such facts as properly be- 
long to literary history. 

The work before us may be regarded as in its facts an 
autobiography of that portion of his life which most com- 
mends him to the affection and respect of men, and there 
is good reason to believe that in his pastoral relation to 
his humble flock, he more nearly realized the ideal he had 
sketched in his picture of Hold’s professional life than his 
own modesty allowed him to suppose. 


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AUTHOR’S PREFACE. 


Upon the form and objects of works like the present, I 
have expressed myself in the preface to my first produc- 
tion of this character, which appeared in 1835, under the 
title “ The Way to Faith, or Love from Childhood,” and I 
therefore take the liberty of referring my readers to that 
volume for an explanation of my views on this subject. 

My friends who, in reading these pages, can not fail to 
perceive that the materials for my description of Hold’s 
social and professional career have been drawn from my 
own experience as a Hallig preacher, will readily believe 
that I have not sought, in my representation of his char- 
acter and spiritual influence, to depict myself, but simply 
to present my ideal of what such a preacher should be, 
and what I ought to have been. 

To the above extract from the preface to my first 
edition, I now add that I have endeavored to prove my 
gratitude for the favorable judgment of my reviewers 
and the reading public, by the correction of the errors 


AUTHOR’S PREFACE. 


xiii 

and defects which have been observed. The general plan 
and import of my book remain indeed the same, but I 
have at least aimed to connect the didactic more closely 
with the narrative element, and here and there to give 
more finish to the execution. 

I have by no means realized my conception of a story 
oF this class, but I hope my failure will be ascribed nqt to 
the want of either earnest effort, or of a due sense of what 
is demanded for the perfection of such a work, but to the 
difficulty of the task, and my inability satisfactorily to 
perform it. 

I had not access to a sufficiently wide range of books 
to supply my chapters with borrowed mottoes. I have 
therefore composed such myself, and if the reader thereby 
suffers loss, I at least am a gainer in this, that my volume 
is altogether my own. 

I have received assurances from various quarters, that 
my tales have given more than mere entertainment to 
some. May then this new edition of “The Hallig” at- 
tain its end, which is to make smooth the way of the 
Lord. 

The Author. 

February 16 , 1840 . 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


translator’s preface 3 

author’s preface *7 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ISLAND HOME. 

ft 

COAST OF SCHLESWIG — ^LARGER ISLANDS — HOW PROTECTED— FLATS — 

EBB- WALKERS — H ALLIGS — EXTENT — ^HABITATIONS— ABSENCE OF VEG- 
ETATION — FRESH WATER, HOW OBTAINED — FISHERIES — INUNDA- 
TIONS — ATTACHMENT OF INHABITANTS TO THE HALLIG — ^MEANS OF 
KNOWLEDGE — THE FRISIC TONGUE — THE HALLIG OP THE TALE. ... 25 


CHAPTER II. 

THE BETROTHED. 

MARIA AND HER MOTHER — THEIR COTTAGE DESCRIBED — GODBER EX- 
PECTED — CONVERSATION — THE DOG — OMENS OF A STORM — GATHER- 
ING OP THE SHEEP — ^THE STORM — THE SHIP — THE ANCHOR CAST — 
ANXIETY RELIEVED — ^HYMN, “WHEN TEMPESTS RAGE, 0 GODI”... 36 

1 * 


t - 


X 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER III. 

THE S H I P Yf E E C K .. 

PAGE 

THE SHIP IN THE STORM — GODBER AS PILOT — ^THE PASSENGERS — 

THE LEAK — THE CHAIN-CABLE BROKEN — BREAKING OF THE MASTS — 

THE WRECK — PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING THE SHIP — DANGER OF 
TAKING BOAT — ID ALIA OVERBOARD — RESCUED BY GODBER— PARTING 
FROM CAPTAIN AND CREW — GODBER PILOTS MANDER, OSWALD, AND 
IDALIA TO. THE HALLIG — ON THE WHARF — ^IDALIA AS A HALLIG 
MAIDEN — HER GRATITUDE TOWARD GODBER 43 


CHAPTER IV. 

m 

THE CITY BELLE. 

GODBER IN HIS HALLIG HOME — MARIA — ^DISTURBING VISIONS — GODBER 
CONSCIENCE-SMITTEN — ^MEETING OF GODBER AND MARIA — MARIA’S 
JOY — IDALIA IN HALLIG COSTUME — HER RECEPTION OF GODBER — 
maria’s EMBARRASSMENT — GODBER FAILS TO ACKNOWLEDGE HER 
AS HIS BETROTHED — MARIA ALONE IN HER SORROW — THE WRECK 
VISITED — CAPTAIN AND SAILORS LOST — THE ORANGES AND WINE — 
CONFESSIONS OF LOVE — IDALIA’S LOSS OF DELICACY — HURTFULNESS 
OF NOVEL-READING — CULTURE OF WOMEN 64 


CHAPTER V. 

THE GREAT WORLD. 

PASTOR HOLD — GODBER’s HOUSE — IDALIA AS MISTRESS — CHARACTER OP 
OSWALD — ^FASHIONABLE LIFE DEPICTED — ^PASTOR HOLD’S ‘‘SIGHTS” 

— THE LITTLE GIRL — THE LABORER AND WIFE — SCENERY — THE MAN- 
SION — AT THE PIANO — THE FATHER AND HIS CHILD — “THEY ARE 
CONDEMNED ALREADY” *71 


CONTENTS 


Xl 


CHAPTER VI. 

CONSOLATION. 

PAGE 

SAVING THE CARGO — MARIA’S DISTRESS — HOLD’S ATTEMPTS AT CONSO- 
LATION — maria’s want of SUBMISSION — ^EOLD’S REPROOF — MA- 
RIA’S PRAYER OF SUBMISSION — POWER OP THE THORN-CROWNED 
CHRIST — NECESSITY OF A VISIBLE MANIFESTATION OP DEITY — HYMN, 
“SAVIOUR, THE GRIEFS THAT WERE THY PART.” 82 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 

MANDER AND OSWALD — THE PASTOR’S WIFE — OSWALD’S SURPRISE — 

A HOME-QUESTION — ^MRS. HOLD’S VIEW OP THE POSITION OF HER 
SEX — POSITION OP THE PASTOR ON THE HALLIG — WANT OP CULTI- 
VATED SOCIETY — ^WANT OF BOOKS — SCHOOL-TEACHING— DISCUSSIONS 
— HOLD AND MANDER — HOLD’S VIEWS — ^POLITICS — THE INTRIGUING 
STATESMAN — PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MORALITY — CONDITION OF EU- 
ROPE — BALANCE OP POWER — WAR AGAINST NAPOLEON — ^HIGHER 
LAW — ^INFLUENCE OF WARS — MANDER’S IMPRESSIONS OF HOLD — 
ONLY ONE TRUE SOURCE OP LIGHT 90 


CHAPTER VIII. 

CONSCIENCE. 

IDALIA IN LOVE — ^HER EFFORTS TO PLEASE GODBER — ^HER SUCCESS — 
MARIA FORGOTTEN — GODBER’s CONSCIENCE WON OVER — ^DANGER 
OP SELF-DELUSION — THE LAW, NOT CONSCIENCE, IS THE TRUE GUIDE 
— SOURCE OP WORLDLINESS AMONG SO-CALLED “GOOD MEN” — 
CONSCIENCE BUT A FABLE WITH MOST — TRUE CONSCIENCE NOT A 
LAW-GIVER BUT AN EYE OPEN TO A GIVEN LAW — NEED OF THE 
LAW AS A FIXED POLAR-STAR WITHOUT 107 


CONTENTS 


XU 


CHAPTER IX. 

REMORSE. . 

PAGE 

BODIES OF THE CAPTAIN AND SAILORS FOUND — COFFINS A PART OP 
NECESSARY HOUSEHOLD FURNITURE — A HALLIO BURIAL — HOLD’S 
SERMON — GODBER’S FEELINGS — ^IDALIA’S PIQUE:— WATCHING WITH 
THE DEAD — MEMORY — MARIA — REPENTANCE CHECKED — GODBER AT 
THE GRAVE 118 


CHAPTER X. 

RESIGNATION. 

maria’s sorrow and SUBMISSION — OSWALD’S NOVELS — THE FORGET- 
ME-NOT — HOLD AND OSWALD — HOLD’S REPROOF — ^DANGER FROM 
NOVELS — ^IDALIA — FRIENDSHIP PROFFERED 129. 

CHAPTER XI. 

EARTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH. 

GODBER’s illness — ^IDALIA’s devotion — ^LOVE — ITS EFFECTS ON THE 
CHARACTERS OF GODBER AND IDALIA — SONG, “ MY FORMER SELF, 
truly” — IDALIA BY GODBER’S COUCH — ^UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE 

OF MARIA — THE BETROTHAL RING COUNSEL IN AFFLICTION — ^DEATH 

OF maria’s MOTHER 136 

CHAPTER XII. 

PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 

MANDER — DISAPPOINTED BY PHILOSOPHY — CONVERSATION WITH HOLD 
— GROWER OP WORDS — FAITH — ERROR OF PHILOSOPHY — PHILOSOPHY 
NOT A PRE-REQUISITE OF FAITH — MANDER’S CONFESSION — HOLD’S 
ADVICE — MISTAKE ABOUT ‘‘RELIGIOUS PEELING” CORRECTED SU- 

PERNATURAL REVELATION VINDICATED — RELIGION OP REASON — 
OSWALD SILENCED 14S 


CONTENTS 


xin 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 

PAGE 

SONG, “WOULDST THOU RECEIVE ME,” ETC. — GODBER — ID ALIA — 
DIFFERENT ESTIMATES OF HALLIG LIFE — ATTACHMENT OF THE IN- 
HABITANTS TO THE HALLIG — ^DISCLOSURES — OSWALD’S RAILLERY — 
MANDER’S view — DISTANCE BETWEEN THE LOVERS — ^INTERVIEW 
BETWEEN GODBER AND MARIA — GODBER MISSES HIS BETROTHAL-RING 162 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SEARCH EOR TRUTH. 

MANDER — SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE — GREATNESS OP GOD’S LOVE FOR 
MAN — hold’s spiritual DIRECTIONS TO MANDER — THE THORNY 
PATH — ^PHILOSOPHICAL CHRISTIANITY — FAITH AND REASON — LINES 
“ TO POSITIVE divinity” — FAITH EVERY THING OR NOTHING — SAV- 
ING GRACE MAKES CLEAR THE MEANING OF THE BIBLE 1*74 


CHAPTER XV. 

POETRY AKD PROSE, 

A BOAT-EXCURSION — HOLD AND OSWALD— THE SEA AND MAN COM- 
PARED — OSWALD’S PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE — HIS SENSATIONS IN VIEW 
OP IMPENDING DEATH — ^HOLD’S ADMONITION — ^POETRY — GENUINE- 
NESS OP OSSIAN — OSWALD’S POETIC TASTE — ^POEM, “LIFE.” 184 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE EBB - WALKERS. 

ISLAND DIKES — ^RETURN TO THE HALLIG ^VESSEL AGROUND — ^EBB- 

WALKING — SINGULAR PHENOMENA OP SEA-FOG HOLD AND OSWALD 

LOST IN THE FOG OVERTAKEN BY THE RETURNING TIDE — HELP- 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

LESSNESS — hold’s SELF FORGETFULNESS — OSWALD OVERWHELMED 
' BY THE TERRORS OF DEATH — HOLD’S TRIUMPH OVER DEATH — HIS 
PRAYER AMID THE WAVES — EFFECT ON HIS COMPANIONS — THE 
TIDE ADVANCING 192 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE WARNING AND THE RESCUE. 

MYSTERIOUS INFLUENCE OF MIND ON MIND — HOLD’S EXPLANATION — 
GODBER AND IDALIA — THE PASTOR’S WIFE — PRETERNATURAL WARN- 
ING OP HER husband’s DANGER — HER ENTREATIES — GODBER IN 
SEARCH OP THE LOST — OSWALD’S SHRIEK HEARD — SITUATION OP 
the' lost — CHARACTER OF OSWALD HOLD AND HIS PARTY RES- 
CUED FROM DEATH 204 


CHAPTER XYiri. 

THE NEW BIRTH. 

RECEPTION ON THE IIALLIG EXHAUSTION OF THE SUFFERERS — OS- 

WALD’S CONVALESCENCE — ^MANDER’s ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF GOD — 
CONVERSATION WITH IIIS SON — “WHEN I AM GRAY-HEADED” — 
OSWALD’S INWARD STRUGGLE — A NIGHT OF WEEPING — OSWALD’S 

NEW BIRTH — HOLD AND OSWALD — OSWALD’S ZEAL — HUMILITY 

hold’s IDEA OP A MISSIONARY — INFLUENCE OF COMMERCE— ITS 
RELATION TO MISSIONS — HOLD’S ADVICE TO OSWALD — HALF VIC- 
TORIES 214 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE PARTING. 

SEPARATING FROM FRIENDS — THE HALLIG PASTOR AND WIFE — COM- 
PARISON — author’s EXPERIENCE — IDALIA’S CHANGE OP FEELING 
TOWARD GODBER — HIS POSITION PORTRAYED BY HOLD — GODBER’s 


\ 


CONTENTS 


XV 


PAUE 

BITTER REFLECTIONS — BETROTHAL OF GODBER AND IDALIA BROKEN 
— IDALIA’S HEARTLESSNESS — GODBER’S AGITATION — IDALIA IN AFTER 
LIFE — SONG, ‘‘every LIFE HATH ONE MAY MORNING.” 230 


CHAPTER XX. ‘ 

THE COMMUNION. 

FALSE REVERENCE — HOLD’S VIEW OF THE EUCHARIST — UNDERSTAND- 
ING ITS CHARACTER NOT NECESSARY TO ITS EFFICACY — THE SUPPER . 
RENEWS NOT MERELY THE MEMORY OP THE FACT OF EXPIATION, 

BUT THE FACT ITSELF — CONSUBSTANTIATION — DOCTRINE OF THE 
LUTHERAN CHURCH — CALVINISTIC VIEW — MANDER’S VIEW OP “DO 
THIS IN REMEMBRANCE,” ETC. — HOLD’S REPLY — INTERPRETATION 
OP PAUL’S LANGUAGE — CASE OF THE FIRST DISCIPLES — CELEBRA- 
TION OF THE SUPPER ON THE IIALLIG MANDER AND OSWALD 

PARTAKE OF IT 244 


CHAPTER XXI. 

T II E . F A R E W E L L . 

PARTING VISITS — MANDER’S GIFT — THE CASK OP WINE — DEPARTURE 

FROM THE HALLIG IDALIA’S EMOTION — ^HOLD’S YOUTHFUL DREAMS 

REVIVED — SONG, “FLOAT AWAY, OH MOURNFUL MEASURE I” 25t 


CHAPTER XXII. 

REPENTANCE. 

GODBER ALONE — THE PASTOR AND GODBER — ^DISCLOSURE OP HIS FEEL- 
INGS — GODBER INSTRUCTED BY THE PASTOR — DIRECTED IN THE WAY 
OF PEACE — HIS CALMNESS RESTORED — GODBER’S WORLDLY AFFAIRS * 
— hold’s PROTEST AGAINST FALSE HUMILITY — THE BETROTHAL 
NOT TO BE RENEWED 263 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE FLOOD. 

i 

PAGE 

HISTORICAL FACTS — THE STORM — THE HALLIG UNDER WATER — MA- 
RIA’S ALARM — DAMAGE TO GODBER’S HOUSE — MARIA IN THE WAVES 
— GODBER’S attempt to RESCUE HER — GODBER AND MARIA ON 
THE WHARF — IIOLD’S DWELLING IN DANGER — THE LOST CHILD — 
DEMOLITION OF THE HOUSE — THE WINE-CASK — THE CHURCH SWEPT 
AWAY — ^DEATH OP GODBER AND MARIA — RECOVERY OP THE LOST 
CHILD — hold’s family SAVED 212 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

SIGHTS. 

THE DESOLATED HALLIG — SITUATION OF HOLD AND FAMILY — THE RE- 
COVERED MANUSCRIPT — “sights” — THE HEAVENLY LADDER — THE 
ANGEL — THE SUPERNATURAL JOURNEY — THE CITY — THE CHURCH — 

THE SPARROW — THE RUINED HUT — THE DYING MAN — THE SPAR- 
ROW A SYMBOL — “behold THE FOWLS OP THE AIR.” 283 


CHAPTER XXY. 

CONCLUSION. 

GATHERING OP THE ISLANDERS — THE CHILD OP THE PLOOD — CONSO- 
LATION ADMINISTERED BY THE PASTOR — THE CASK OP WINE AND 
GODBER’S corpse — ^hold’s “REQUIESCAT in pace” — LUTHER’S 
HYMN, “ AND SHOULD MY GRIEP LAST TILL THE NIGHT” — ^MARIA’S 
BODY POUND — ^hold’s APOSTROPHE TO HER — THE GOLDEN COM- 
MUNION CUP — TABLEAU — THE PASTOR’S ADDRESS TO HIS PEOPLE. 290 


BIOaRAPHICAL 


SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR. 


The family of Biernatzki originated in Poland, His 
grandfather, a Polish nobleman, of the Protestant re- 
ligion, whose estates had been confiscated, emigrated to 
Breslau, then passed into Hanover, and finally fixed him- 
self at Altona, in the duchy of Holstein. He there estab- 
lished a school, which he conducted with ability and suc- 
cess, and thus supported his family in comfort and re- 
spectability until his death. His youngest son, the father 
of J. G. Biernatzki, was educated to the medical profession 
at Copenhagen, obtained the favor of Privy-coimsellor 
Brandt, and was attached to the Royal Guards in the ca- 
pacity of surgeon. He soon after married, and the author 
of “The Hallig,” the second child of this union, was 
born at Elmshorn on the 17th of October, 1795. The 
death of Biernatzki’s mother, a woman of excellent heart 
and superior intellect, which took place in 1801, appears 
to have affected him more deeply and permanently than 
is usual with children of so tender an age, and this afflic- 
tion, so peculiarly felt, doubtless had some influence in 


XVlll 


BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH. 


modifying his character through life. With i^rematurely 
developed mental powers, he had a slender constitution, 
and suifered from a variety of maladies, and especially from 
an affection of the eyes, which often interrupted his studies 
for weeks together. During these intervals, his father de- 
voted much time to the instruction and amusement of his 
son, by reading to him, and assisting him to get by heart 
short poems, and other matter worthy of being committed 
to memory. 

At the age of twelve, young Biernatzki was attacked by 
a disease of the chest, which brought him near the grave, 
and kept him long hovering between life and death. After 
the crisis was thought to have passed, he fell into a stupor, 
and soon sunk into a state of suspended animation, in which 
condition he lay for four and twenty hours. At the expira- 
tion of this period consciousness suddenly returned, but 
with a nearly total loss of all recollection of previous events, 
except of the sufferings of his deceased mother, and he 
never regained a distinct remembrance of his former life. 
Health was very gradually restored, though never after- 
ward firmly established, and it was not until the following 
year that Biernatzki was able to enter the gymnasium at 
Alton a. He was here respected as much for his frank, 
manly, and truthful character, as for his diligence in study ; 
his progress in the acquisition of learning was highly credit- 
able, and he was particularly distinguished for his knowl- 
edge of Latin. He had been accustomed from childhood 
to look upon theology as his chosen vocation, and he there- 
fore lost no time from uncertainty or indecision with respect 
to the course of study most likely to be useful to him in his 
future professional life. Both his poetical temperament^ 
which was rapidly developing itself, and his intended call- 
ing, gave, in his eyes, a special interest to oriental litera- 
ture, and he was already far advanced in the study of 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


XIX 


Hebrew while still at the gymnasium. The glowing poesy, 
the highly figurative style, the deep religious solemnity, 
and the mystic tone of the projDhetic books were particu- 
larly attractive to him. The Hebrew tongue introduced 
him to the Arabic, which language and its literature now 
became his favorite pursuit, and would doubtless have 
quite absorbed him, had not the claims of the profession 
he had chosen required him to devote himself to othei 
studies. 

His first sermon, an eminently successful effort, was 
preached in 1814, when he was still a gymnasiast; and 
upon leaving the school at Altona to repair to the univer- 
sity at Kiel, he delivered a discourse ‘‘ on some of the lead- 
ing virtues of Luther,” which was much commended for the 
classic elegance of its Latinity. At the university he pur- 
sued his studies with his usual diligence, and returned with 
renewed zeal to the cultivation of Arabic literature. “ It 
is,” wrote he enthusiastically to a friend, ‘‘ one of the no- 
blest of tongues. The Arab speaks with the blaze of the 
word as with the lightning of his cimeter, with the dart of 
his acuteness as with the arrow of his bow. His poetry 
is a wild daughter of the desert. Whosoever has looked 
into her flashing eye is hers to death. Thus is it with me. 
How dull in comparison are all my other professional 
studies ! This is their sunny side, and I will never aban- 
don it. She hurries me through the thirsty sands of the 
wilderness to the cool oases, but her path is a hurricane, 
and knows no rest.” 

During his university life, Biernatzki occupied himself 
much in poetical composition, and seems to have projected 
many plans of this nature, few of which were executed, 
and fewer still saw the light. Among them was a tragedy, 
the subject of which was probably suggested by the his- 
tory of his own family, -and, as he says in a letter to a 


XX 


BIOaRAPHICAL 


SKETCH. 


friend, was sufficiently inspiring for me, as you will infer 
from the following extract : 

“ Erom a Polish stock descended, 

Yet a German bj my birthright, 

Equal is my love and longing 
Por the Patherland and Poland. 

But to both I am an alien I 
When I seek my father’s homestead, 

Seek the tombs where sleep our grandsires, 

None the stranger’s sorrow heedeth. 

And the soil that was my birthplace, 

Where, a happy child, I sported. 

Crowns with oak-leaf wreaths and roses 
Every son born of her people ; 

Por the offspring of the Polack 
Thorns she plats to bind his temples. 

As the pine, whose roots the water 
Washeth bare and undermineth, 

• Leaving naught to hold or nourish, 

Trembleth, sinketh, falleth headlong — 

O’er it, ’neath it, dance the billows ; 

Billows sport with its green branches : 

So he sinketh in life’s river, 

Who no country hath to greet him. 

Hath no home to love him fondly. 

Hath no soil his life to cherish. 

Prom his mother earth uprooted, 

Orphaned through the world he wanders. 

Homeless always, always alien.” 

Biernatzki probably never completed his tragedy, and, 
with other similar projects, it was forgotten as soon as he 
fully realized that graver occupations than poetry and 
literature must be the business of his life. 

He left the university of Kiel in 1818 , after having made 
good progress in oriental learning, and consequently in 
biblical exegesis, as well as in most branches of theological 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


XXI 


knowledge, but lie had paid little attention to mathematics 
or intellectual philosophy; a neglect for which, as to the 
former at least, he atoned by laborious study at a later 
period of life. From Kiel he went to Jena, and arrived 
at that city on the lYth of October, 1818 , the evening be- 
fore the celebration of the Feast of the Wartburg. He 
thus describes the ceremonies of the occasion : 

“On the 18 th of the month of victory, we celebrated 
the festival. At nine in the morning, the Burschenschaft 
assembled. The chiefs, standard-bearers, aids, and mar- 
shals were dressed in black, with old ‘German coats, trunk 
hose, and hats with black plumes. Over the shoulder 
and across the breast was thrown a red scarf, to which 
hung a sword. The procession first marched to the mar- 
ket, where a spirited address was delivered, then, with ban- 
ners flying, and in close order, to the church. After the 
sermon, which dwelt exclusively on the triumphs of liberty, 
the association dined on Oak-square, and then proceeded 
to the Turn-square. In the evening, fires were lighted on 
all the mountains which surround the valley of Jena. We 
marched with six hundred torches to the summit of one 
of the highest, and a mighty pile of wood, prepared for 
the occasion, was soon kindled. Then a student stepped 
forth, and spoke in words more glowing and heart-stirring 
than the flames which blazed to heaven beside us. Hymns 
to God, liberty, and the fatherland, mingled with the rus- 
tling of the oaks that clothe the slopes of the mountain. 
You should have witnessed it. The lofty peak, the whis- 
pering oaks, the crackling fire, the wild songs, and the 
strange garb of the officers of the Burschenschaft, who 
seemed as if they had come forth from their ancestral 
graves — all these conspired to fill me with the most singu- 
lar emotions.” 

Sand, the murderer of Kotzebue, was then a member of 


XXll 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


the university of Jena, and was the first student whose ac^ 
quaintance Biernatzki made. Festivals like this no doubt 
contributed much to heighten both Sand’s enthusiasm, and 
that of the political associations among the students, and 
thus in some measure to stimulate him to the commission 
of the crime, which cost his life as well as that of his vic- 
tim. At Jena, Biernatzki continued his oriental studies, 
under the direction of Kosegarten. He occupied himself 
with the careful perusal of the Hebrew Scriptures, es- 
pecially the prophets ; and his Arabic partialities went so 
far, that he wrote a defense of Mohammed against the im- 
putation of feigning the performance of miracles. This 
essay was afterward submitted to his examiners, as one of 
the two dissertations required on such occasions. After a 
year at Jena he went to Halle, attended the lectures of 
Gesenius, and sedulously practiced disputation in Latin, in 
the Anhaltina, a club which met for that purpose, and he 
attained such facility in this exercise, that he was able to 
give plausibility to the most palpable paradoxes, and to dis- 
concert if not to confute his opponent by sportive repartee 
and verbal wit. 

Early in 1821 he returned to Kiel, but left that univer- 
sity after a few months’ residence, and then devoted him- 
self for some time to special preparation for his theological 
examination. At the commencement of the year 1822, he 
entered upon his professional career as pastor of the church 
on the Hallig of Kordstrandischmoor (a ‘Congregation of 
about fifty souls), and teacher of a school on the island of 
Kordstrand, which lies about a German mile to the south 
of the hallig. The discharge of this double duty required 
frequent passages between the hallig and the island proper. 
These were made by water, on foot across the flats, or upon 
the ice, according to the tide and the season, and were 
often performed under circumstances of great hardship and 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


xxin 


danger. Both as a pastor and as a teacher, he rendered 
himself very acceptable to those under his charge, and he 
soon became reconciled to the life of isolation and self- 
denial which his position necessarily imposed upon him. 

In 1823, he was married to Henrietta de Vries, a 
woman of cultivated intellect and affectionate temper, 
and the union appears to have been in all respects a 
happy one. 

The terrible inundation of February, 1825, so ably de- 
scribed in the twenty-third chapter of “The Hallig,” de- 
prived his flock not only of all their personal property, 
but almost of the very soil on which their humble habita- 
tions were reared. Biernatzki exerted himself most zeal- 
ously in stimulating and promoting measures for their relief, 
among others by contributing the proceeds of a work en- 
titled “ Faith, a religious didactic poem,” which he had 
written some time before, and which now went through 
two editions. So successful were his efforts, that his peo- 
ple were furnished with the means of rebuilding their 
church, their wharves, and their houses, and of replacing 
their furniture and sheep ; and the whole congregation, 
with the exception of a single couple, returned to the hal- 
lig, though it had been within a very few years thrice laid 
waste by the waves. 

In the autumn of 1825, Biernatzki was transferred to a 
somewhat wider sphere of labor as pastor of a church in 
the city of Friedrichstadt in Schleswig, a town founded in 
1624 by Arminians from Holland, who had been compelled 
to emigrate from their native country, by the resolutions 
of the Synod of Dort. In this charge he was as successful 
as he had been in his former humble parish, and was always 
conspicuous for his zeal in the cause of education and 
of philanthropy. His leisure hours were devoted to liter- 
ary pursuits both general and professional, but all his 


XXIV 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 


printed works were theological, or at least of a decidedly 
religious tendency. The first of his tales, “ The way to 
Faith,” appeared in 1835, “The Hallig,” on which his 
reputation as a writer mainly rests, in 1836, and a revised 
and enlarged edition of this work was his last literary labor. 
His other productions consist of w^orks of imagination in 
poetry and in prose, sermons, and occasional essays ; and 
though none of them have been so well received as “ The 
Hallig,” they are in general characterized by the same ex- 
cellences as that remarkable work. 

Biernatzki continued in charge of his church at Fried- 
richstadt until his death, which took place in May, 1840, 
just after he had been nominated to the pastorate of 
Siiderau. This was a much more desirable position than 
those he had before occupied, and he had the dying con- 
solation of knowing that his merits were at length recog- 
nized, though it was not the will of Providence, that he 
should enjoy an earthly reward for his faithful devotion 
to the responsibilities and duties of a life of toil, of suf- 
fering, and of privation. 


THE HALLia. 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE ISLAND HOME. 

“The eye’s first upward glancing at the day, 

The first faiot footprints on life’s dusty way, 

The mother’s name lisped feebly at her knees. 

Can time steal from us memories like these?” 

Along the western coast of the Duchy of Schleswig, 
embosomed in the waves of the North Sea, lie several 
islands which are the remains of a portion of the neigh- 
boring shore that has fallen a prey to the ocean, and 
serve as a continual warning to the inhabitants of the 
mainland to resist the encroachments of the waves 
by every means at their command. 

The larger islands are protected, partly by dykes 
(artificial sea-waUs), and partly by downs (natural hill- 
ocks of sand), against the waves, which daily ad- 
vancing and retreating with the tide, seem to be in- 
cessantly making renewed efforts to sweep into the 
greedy abyss of the ocean the last fragments of their 
mighty spoil. At ebb-tide the sea retires so far as to 
expose a soft slimy flat, miles in width, whose rippled 
surface repeats the forms of the waves that were roll- 
2 


26 


THE HALLia. 


ing over it a few hours before. But small runs, and 
other depressions, which furrow this waste, are not left 
dry even at low tide ; and the now visible chan- 
nels,'' as they are called, which communicate with 
each other as well as with the ocean, entangle the 
islands in the serpent embrace of their giant enemy, 
which, though now invading other shores, still holds 
fast his prey, and never suffers it to hope for a 
moment that he has renounced his conquest. These 
channels, even at the lowest ebb, form impassable bar- 
riers to the solitary wanderer who traverses the soft 
bottom left bare for an hour, in search of crabs, or 
rays, or perhaps a seal left stranded by the sudden 
retreat of the waves, and they intercept the com- 
munication between the islands by land, even when it 
seems most practicable. It is only a few of the smaller 
islands that, during the retreat of the sea, enjoy a 
brief intercourse with each other or with the main- 
land, without recourse to boats ; but woe to the loiterer 
who trusts the treacherous giant too far ! The enemy 
often returns with unexpected haste, bringing thick 
mists in his train, and the ehb~walker — so they call 
those who venture excursions upon the flats at low 
tide — sees his home fading from his view, he feels 
the returning current playing around his feet, and 
seized with terror he rushes on in agony. The 
swelling runs obstruct his path, he makes a circuit 
to avoid them, loses his course, turns hither and thither, 
and at length finds himself quite surrounded by the 
advancing waves. The tide creeps higher and higher 
at every breath, his cry is lost in the waste of waters, 
and at last is choked by the rushing surge which now 


THE island home. 


27 


engulfs liis corpse ; and dee]3-rolling billows flow over 
the ground just now marked by the footprints of the 
victim. 

By way of distinction from the larger islands^ which . 
are protected by dykes and downs, the smaller ones are 
called lialligs, A hallig is a flat grass-plot, scarcely 
two or three feet higher than the level of ordinary 
tides, and consequently, being protected neither by 
nature nor by art, is often overflowed by the rolling 
sea, especially in the winter months, and sometimes 
twice in a day. The largest of these halligs are less 
than half a German square mile in extent ; the 
smaller, often inhabited only by a single family, are 
barely a couple of thousand feet in length and breadth ; 
the smallest halligs are uninhabited, and only produce 
a little short thin hay, which is often swept off* by 
the waves before it can be secured. The hay is stored 
in stacks, over which is thrown a covering of plat- 
ted straw loaded at the ends with stones, and it be- 
comes so solid, in consequence, that the supply for 
daily use must be cut with a hay-knife ; and the 
stacks near the dwelling often serve as a secure retreat, 
w^hen the walls of the house yield to the violence of 
the waves. The habitations are erected on artificial 
mounds of earth, or wharves, seldom leaving more 
space than is required for a narrow walk around the 
house, on the sloping side of the wharf. On most of 
the halligs, therefore, there is no patch of garden 
ground for any kitchen vegetable, not a bush to yield 
refreshing berries, or a tree to afford a resting-place in 
its shade. For such enjoyments the wharves must be 
larger, but small as they are, their erection and main- 


28 


THE IIALLia. 


tenance involve a greater exj)enditure than the cost 
of the simple dwellings which crown them. On the 
jdain helow^ the frequent overflows forbid the growth 
of every pleasant shrub or nutritious fruit. It is a 
waste whose pale green sod^ often interrupted by 
patches of gray slime^ shows that the frugal sheep 
may find here a scanty sustenance, but nowhere aftbrds 
the fresh and fragrant pasture where the thriving cow 
revels, and the spirited horse prances. No bubbling 
springs offer a refreshing draught on these thin mead- 
ows burned by the direct rays of the sun, which no 
shady foliage intercepts. You find indeed shores torn 
by the waves, deep sea-creeks penetrating with winding 
course ’ far into the land, as if seeking to divide it into 
smaller portions, in order to master it the more easily, 
many standing pools left behind by the last inunda- 
tion, as a token that the land already belongs half to 
the ocean, and will soon be Avholly his own ; but fresh 
water is found only in reservoirs excavated upon the 
wharves, and lined with sods. Into these the rain- 
water falls and leaches through their sides, and this 
water serves for the sheep and the tea-kettles of their 
owners, though it derives from the salt earth a nau- 
seously brackish taste, which renders it altogether un- 
drinkable to the stranger. Sometimes a boat brings 
off a keg of fresh water from the mainland, and in 
seasons of drought it becomes necessary to fetch thence 
the whole supply. 

But doubtless the inhabitant of the hallig enjoys the 
advantage of a constant and abundant fishery ? No ; 
he has not even the view of a clear green sea. A re- 
pulsive turbid yellowish gray is the usual color of the 


THE ISLAND HOM.E. 


29 


waters around him. The fish shun a shallow sea^ that 
at ebb leaves bare a wide expanse of slimy bottom^ and 
wilhngiy relinquish to the seal and the ugly ray so 
uninviting an abode. And this sea which surrounds^ 
and so often inundates the halligs^ and which at dif- 
ferent points is named after the districts it has swal- 
lowed up — this sea so poor in gifts, and so rich in 
plunder, is still forever a spoiler, which now with 
gradual destructive steps, and now with impetuous 
fury, is undermining the island piece by piece, so that 
the inhabitant of the hallig can calculate the period 
when it will ravish the last foothold from his flocks 
and sap the foundations of his dwelling. Yet happy 
were the hallig if the picture of its miseries were now 
complete. But there still remains a fearful page. In- 
undations that overflov/ the level surface, and roll their 
billows against the wharf, dashing their spray upon 
the walls and windows, are of frequent occurrence. 
The habitations then show only their thatched roofs 
above the tossing waters, and one would never imagine 
that they are sheltering human beings, hoary grand- 
sires, strong men and women, and playful children 
perhaps gathered carelessly about the tea-table, and 
scarcely casting a glance at the threedening ocean. 
Many a stranger vessel driven out of its course by night 
has on such occasions sailed over a hallig, and the as- 
tonished seamen have thought it a delusion of witch- 
craft when they have suddenly seen, alongside, a cheer- 
ful candle shining through the window of a dwelling, 
which, half buried in the waves, seemed to rest only 
on their bosom. But sometimes tempest and tide to- 
gether break upon the trembling hallig. The sea rises 


30 


THE IIALLIG. 


twenty feet above its usual level ; the waves swell and 
sink to alternate mountains and valleys, and the ocean 
calls out his forces in a quick succession of long surges 
to advance against the wharves and sweep them 
from his path. The mound, which has for a time 
feebly resisted the waves, begins to crumble. Fragment 
after fragment yields to repeated attacks, and disap- 
pears beneath the waves. The posts of the house, 
prudently buried as deeply in the wharf as they pro- 
ject above its surface, are bared of their support, and 
washed and shaken by the sea. The frightened peas- 
ant hastens to secure his best sheep in the houseloft, 
and then himself retires to the same shelter. The 
wall soon gives way, and but a few studs remain to 
sustain the quivering garret floor, the last retreat of 
the terrified inmates. With triumphant fury, the 
waves roll through the naked frame-work below, they 
toss presses, boxes, beds, cradles, violently against each 
other, force for themselves wide passages to sweep them 
all out into the open sea, there yet more wildly to sport 
with their plunder. The supports of the roof are fail- 
ing — of that roof whose overthrow must inevitably 
plnnge in a watery grave a family whose members 
were but a few hours before busied together in their 
household duties or sleeping peacefully side by side. 
The unhappy ones press nearer and nearer to each 
other, they listen anxiously for the abating of the 
storm, and their hearts beat fearfully at every renewed 
shock. In the darkness none sees the pale, terrified 
countenance of the other. The thunder roll of the mad 
waves drowns the groan of fear ; but each one can 
measure by his own sufferings the agonizing terror 


THE ISLAND HOME. 


31 


of the other. With despairing certainty of death, the 
husband embraces the wife, the mother the child. The 
boards beneath their feet are raised by the swelling 
flood, the water gushes through every seam, the roof is 
shattered by the dashing waves. A solitary moonbeam 
pierces through the rent clouds, falls in upon this 
scene of distress, and lighting it up with pale trem- 
bling rays, shows all its terrors, and mirrors to each 
the horror-stricken face of the other. There c-racks a 
beam ! — a shriek of terror ! yet another moment of 
torturing suspense — still another ! the floor settles 
away, and the mountain wave breaks in, and the last 
death-cry dies away amid the storm. The triumph- 
ant waves toss to and fro the bodies of the dead and 
the fragments of their dwelling. 

Still the inhabitant of the hallig loves his home — 
loves it above every thing, and he who has just es- 
caped from the flood always builds again upon the very 
spot where he has so lately lost his all, and where 
he may so soon lose his life as well. 

We are surprised at the son of the African desert 
who pitches his tent in the fiery heat of a vertical 
sun, in the midst of a boundless burning sand-plain. 
He has however a wide kingdom over which he courses 
in every direction on his swift steed. He has, too, his 
oases, thoise islands of the sand sea, where under the 
shadow of the palm-tree, he hears the gushing of the 
fountain, chants lays in praise of the desert, or listens 
to the marvelous tales of the experienced caravan 
leader. But the home that he loves is not without 
variety, his life not without change. He does not 
drag on a constant uniform existence ; he stiU finds 


32 


THE HALLIG. 


room to exert his strength, and his landscape has its 
distances which want not the interest of novelty. The 
inhabitant of the hallig takes in at a single glance 
his narrow boundaries. His toils and troubles are the 
same from day to day, except when some rare occasion, 
such as the sale of his wool, takes him over to the 
mainland, and removed as he has been from intercourse 
with his fellow men, he feels himself a stranger among 
strangers when, pressed by necessity, he leaves his little 
sea-girt sod. All his pleasures and enjoyments are like 
his labors, confined within a very narrow sphere, with- 
out the stimulating excitement incident to the expecta- 
tion of something unusual. A wedding dance, which, 
on account of the small number of the inhabitants of 
the hallig, frequently does not occur for years, is one 
of his greatest pleasures. 

Even the dangers to which he is exposed are without 
the only attraction which danger can have — namely, 
the pleasure of resistance. Though the sand of the 
desert, whirled upward by the storm, in thick clouds, 
as if the very vault of heaven would become a Sahara, 
may bury in its stifling waves encampments and cara- 
vans, yet the possibility of escape remains, and often 
do men, flying on horses and camels before the sand 
storm, succeed in avoiding the threatened destruction. 
The islander's enemy is on every side of him ; and 
if that power rise in its fearful might, he, more help- 
less than the child in the way of the maddened bull, 
must, trembling, resign himself to this resistless force 
and wait the event, whether it will mercifully pass 
over, or in wild fury crush every thing in its path ; he 
must accept life or death as a j)assive victim, without 


THE ISLAND HOME. 


33 


raising hand or foot for flight or defense, which are 
alike impossible. Eeason and strength are alike un- 
.availing ; fully conscious of his helplessness, submission 
is his only choice. 

And yet it is not ignorance of the advantages of 
other lands that makes the islander^s home dear to him. 
No ; he has the richest and most fertile tracts before his 
eyes. Behind the dykes which protect the mainland 
near him, lies a soil which afibrds to its inhabitants 
an abundance such as few lands on earth bestow. 
There ripens the heaviest grain. The cattle revel in 
the most fragrant clover. There stand flne farm-houses 
whose inmates, familiar with all the enjoyments of life, 
and conscious of their own importance, proudly boast 
themselves lords of the soil. Often too, though less 
frequently than formerly, the inhabitant of the hallig 
passes a portion of his youth and manhood as a mari- 
ner on distant seas. By his frugality and honesty 
he often rises to command ; the wealthiest commercial 
ports and countries become as familiar to him as his 
own home. But he has seen all, compared all, and for- 
gotten all. Pie returns with his savings to his beloved 
island home, to this comfortless soil — to this most peril- 
ous spot upon earth — to this waste full of privation 
and self-denial, and thanks God that his hallig is not 
yet washed away. No sooner has he settled himself 
there again, than he becomes in his tastes and mode 
of life like one who never saw the world. 

Neither is it the freedom which endears the desert to 
the Bedouin, that makes the hallig a paradise to its 
inhabitant. He feels all the pressure of civilization 
with its taxes and imposts, and, on the other hand, 
2 ^ 


34 


THE HALLIH. 


enjoys few of its advantages. As to security of pro- 
perty, his poverty and the waves around him are a 
sufficient protection ; as to general communication, no 
beaten road leads to the halligs. As to the diflusion 
of knowledge, there seldom finds its way to him any 
volume but the Bible and Psalm-book ; as to the 
liberal arts, art does not penetrate to his hut. He 
scarcely seems to enjoy even the society within his 
reach. He is silent for the most part, lives to himself 
contentedly on his wharf, and though he has great re- 
spect for his pastor, or priest, as he calls him, it is not 
easy for the latter to win his familiar confidence. The 
pastor must acknowledge that between him and his 
flock, especially the female portion of it, there is no 
common point of sympathy, except on the subject of 
religion ; and his High-German dialect still further 
separates him from his congregation who speak only 
Frisic. Indeed, it is only upon these islands that the 
Frisic, which is closely allied to English, and to which 
the German philologist would do well to direct his at- 
tention more than he has hitherto done, retains its 
original characteristics nearly entire, while on the main- 
land coast it seems about to degenerate into a medley 
of tongues. 

One of these halligs, of which we have here endeav- 
ored to give a general and truthful description, is the 
scene of the following narrative. It was in the sum- 
mer of 1824 inhabited by about fifty j^ersons in nine 
huts, placed upon six wharves, scattered over a sur- 
face of scarcely a square mile, and who supplied them- 
selves sparingly with the bare necessaries of life by 


THE ISLAND HOME. 


35 


keeping sheep. The old church having been swept 
away in 1816^ and in 1821 another which had just 
been completed — a new one, scarcely distinguishable 
from the other dwellings, now served as a place of wor- 
ship for the pious congregation. 


CHAPTER II. ■ 

THE BETK OTHE D. 

The slender ship, with snowy canvas flying, 

Now proudly mounts, now plunges ’neath the wave ; 

Then struggling clears the gulf, still onward hieing ; — 

We seek the haven through ihe opening grave. 

It was a calm pleasant afternoon^ the 9tli of Sep- 
tember, 1824. The clear sky was imaged on the 
smooth surface of the sea, which was rendered still 
more beautiful by that reflection. Even the lightest 
cloud would have been visible in that limpid mirror, 
but neither cloud nor ripple broke the transparency 
of the light blue sea. Maria, with her mother, an aged 
widow, sat spinning in a small room of their humble 
dwelling. The extreme neatness of the walls and 
window-seats, painted red and blue, the chests orna- 
mented with brass which contained the household treas- 
ures of linen, holiday dresses and silk handkerchiefs, 
and concealed in a private drawer a few gold rings 
and chains, so dear to the inhabitant of the hallig, 
gave to the whole a home-like appearance. The gayly 
painted doors of the press-bed added to the general 
look of cheerful comfort. The chairs covered with loose 
cushions, and the table, which necessarily occupied a 


THE BETROTHED. 


37 


great portion of the room^ were of unpainted wood^ and 
owed their polish only to constant wear and indus- 
trious rubbing. Earely did a word from the lips of 
the busy spinners break the silence, which was en- 
livened only by the monotonous hum of the busy wheel. 
And equally still sat the white shepherd dog upon 
the window-seat, looking with his clear wise eyes out 
through the small lead-bound window panes steadily 
upon the sea, without any apparent object to fix his 
attention. 

Maria, too, when her work would allow it, threw oc- 
casionally a glance at the sea ; for about this time, after 
nine years" absence, was Godber to return. He had 
lately written from Hamburg, that he had earned a 
small capital sufficient to redeem his paternal home- 
stead, and that he now longed to come back to his 
hallig, and his Maria. According to the custom of 
the island, she had been betrothed to him from her 
childhood ; and she had retained for him a calm and 
true affection, which was indeed far removed from that 
impatient passion that so many of our time seem to re- 
gard as a necessary ingredient in love, but which not 
the less by its depth and sincerity pervaded her whole 
being, excluded every other passing inclination, and 
had directed and fixed every thought and sentiment 
of the girl upon her duty as the betrothed bride of 
Godber. It is true there were many things in God- 
ber’s letter quite above the comprehension of his 
simply-educated Maria, and she could not entirely 
overcome a secret fear of one who had seen and 
learned so much, that he could write such fine things. 
But had he not thought of the happiness of leaving 


38 


THE IIALLIG. 


tlie world behind him to live on this small patch by 
the side of a beloved sympathizing wife^ forgetting all 
the gay life and busy activity which were so distasteful 
to him? In such assurances her heart found solace 
and relief. They called up hopes for the future so 
bright that she readily forgot such portions of the let- 
ter as might otherwise have made her anxious. 

He onust come to-day/" said she to her mother ; 

something tells me so."" 

At the same time she continued spinning as busily as 
before^ for^ like all her island 'sisterS;, she was ignorant 
of a passion which makes one untrue to the call of 
the humblest duty. 

I would rather believe/*" said the mother, that 
Godber is not at sea to-day, for there is a storm ap- 
proaching. Don"t you hear the sea-mew"s scream ?"" 

Mother,"" exclaimed Maria, God will never do 
that ! I have prayed so earnestly, and He has given 
me such a cheerful confidence, that I know He will not 
do it."" 

What will He not do ?"" asked the mother. 

He will not suffer a storm to come and shipwreck 
Godber. He will only permit the winds to rise and fill 
his sails fuller, and bring him quickly to me — to us."" 

Let Him do His own good pleasure,"" devoutly re- 
plied the other. What God does, that is well done. 
The dog has jumped down from the window, and is 
looking at us wistfully ; let us drive up the sheep be- 
fore the storm breaks upon us."" 

They went out, and the dog, which, whether from his 
own observation of the usual signs of an approaching 
change in the weather, or from, the sensibility of his 


THE BETKOTHED. 


89 


nerves, liad for some time seemed conscious of the 
coming storm, bounded rapidly before them, and with 
noisy barking gathered the sheep and drove them 
toward the hut. Already an occasional gust came over 
the waves, which rolled up reluctantly and then sank 
slowly back, as if too indolent to rouse themselves for 
the conflict. The evening sun still stood in the south- 
west, but threw its rays only upward. Below it, had 
appeared a thick cloud, whose edge reflected a yellow- 
ish gray light, and which for some time seemed to 
increase neither in length nor breadth, but stood like 
a sentinel over the sea. Suddenly another and fuller 
gust swept along the deep, but still with such uncertain 
strength, that only here and there a solitary wave broke 
into foam before it, then all again was still. But now 
as if driven by irresistible force, black masses of clouds 
rolled upward, and concealed the face of the sun. 
Blast followed blast with increasing rapidity amd 
strength ; more and more restlessly the waves raised 
their dark heads. The heavy cloud seemed to stretch 
its long arms around the horizon, ever rising higher and 
higher, while its deep shadows spread rapidly over the 
ocean. Along those shadows the spirit of the storm 
seemed to follow in his strength, bowed himself to the 
sea, and the fearful conflict began. The billows rose 
ill broad and mighty lines, as if they would draw the 
clouds into their depths. But the tempest beat them 
down, so that they fell only to rise to still greater 
heights, and still more madly roared the storm, and 
ever higher rolled the waves with heavy dashings. 

Meanwhile the little flock was hastily driven to the 
wharf, and now Maria first turned her anxious look 


40 


THE HALLIG. 


over the ocean which had already advanced upon the 
land, and separated by its waves the scattered cabins 
from each other. There she saw, and her heart beat 
faster at the sight, a white point, which sometimes rode 
boldly on the foaming edge of a high rolling billovv", 
then, sinking into the deep gulfs, vanished from her 
sight as if never to reappear. 

A ship, mother,"' cried she, and thought of 
Godber. 

The sympathizing mother looked in the direction in- 
dicated, where at first her eyes, enfeebled by age, could 
discern nothing. But it drew nearer and nearer, 
first like the white wing of some lagging sea-mew, 
now seeming resolved to force a passage through the 
dark vault above her, now plunging into the engulfing 
waves. By degrees the shape of the sails might be 
distinguished, then the masts became visible, and at 
length the whole fine model of the ship could be seen. 
Now she leans completely on her side, her strained 
cordage almost touching the swollen waves, which fre- 
quently in their wild sport broke against the sails, then 
like a proud conqueror descending to his tomb, she 
boldly leaps into the deep abyss below. But once more 
the light bark with her slender masts and weather- 
beaten sails rides on the topmost waves, then plunging 
again, and again rising, she seems blindly to pursue 
a way which is in fact directed by an experienced 
hand. 

They have a good helmsman," said the mother ; 
and Godber's name fell from the lips of Maria. 

The ship now changed her course, and passing be- 
tween two shoals which almost touched each other, tri- 


THE BETROTHED. 


41 


umphantly left tlie foaming breakers beliind lier and 
lay again in deej) Y/ater. 

^^Helm a-lee shouted the mother^ as if her voice, 
which was lost in the storm, could guide the shij) ; 
but it veered to the left, and every moment the 
anxious watchers expected to see it reach the point 
which they knew to be so full of peril, where the least 
turn to the right or left must inevitably dash it against 
hidden shoals. But suddenly the already reefed sails 
dropped from the masts, and the naked spars sustained 
uninjured the force of the tempest, the reeling ship 
swept slowly round in a semicircle till her bowsprit, 
which had so long followed the direction of the storm, 
now pointed to windward. 

They have cast anchor,'" cried Maria, joyfully ; and 
the experienced widow said : 

If they, as I think, are bound to Husinn, they 
may with the coming ebb faU into their right course, 
from which they have been driven so far to the 
north.’" 

Believed from their anxiety for the mariners, they 
both went into the house. So long as daylight per- 
mitted, Maria threw many a look from the little back 
room toward the ship, that with the now approaching 
ebb still remained moored, and no signs of activity 
on board were visible from the shore. When the 
twdlight shut it from her view, she quietly began to 
spin again by the side of her mother. Then there was 
a long talk between the two about the dowry and the 
future housekeeping ; for the mother, too, through 
Maria's confidence, was disposed to believe that Grodber 
was on board the ship. Later than usual they went to 


42 


THE HALLIG. 


rest in cheerful hope^ but not until they had com- 
mended themselves to the protection of the Most High 
in the following simple hymn : 

“ When tempests rage, 0 God I 
Do Thou my life watch over ; 

And round my frail abode 
Let Thine own angels hover ; 

That the wild waves may shrink with fear, 

Like lambs which see the lion near. 

“ But should Thy holy will 
Decree my death the rather, 

In mercy take my soul 
Into Thy hands, 0 Father ! 

From every stain of sin set free, 

Through Jesus’ blood who died for me.” 


CHAPTER HI. 


THE SHIPWRECK. 

How sinks and swells the flood, 

Eestless and tossing^yet 
Obedient to His word 
Who ruled Oenesaret. 

Let us now turn to the ship which^ rocked hy the 
waveS; was lying at anchor in the place it had selected 
to await the abating of the storm. As Maria had sus- 
pected^ and as the skillful steerage of the vessel in 
these difficult waters made probable^ Godber was in- 
deed on board as pilot. Beside himself, the ship's com- 
pany consisted of the captain^ four sailors, and three 
passengers : — Mr. Mander, a merchant from Hamburg, 
and owner of the cargo, with a grown son and daughter, 
Oswald and Idalia. Mr. Mander had undertaken the 
voyage, not on account of his business, but merely for 
the sake of his children, who had promised themselves 
much pleasure from a sea voyage. 

The captain's hope of regaining his course, as Maria's 
mother had said, was disappointed. When after some 
Lours the ebb commenced, the water, on account of the 
strong south-west gale, which was still blowing, re- 
treated with so feeble a current, that it was not possi- 


44 


THE HALLia. 


tie with its help to work out the ship against a head 
wind. The purjoose, therefore, of Grodber, who had 
selected precisely this anchorage because the current at 
ebb-tide was usually particularly strong there, was de- 
feated. And now the ship left in shoal water by the 
retreating tide, and held fast by her anchors, thumped 
often and heavily upon the bottom. And when, after 
many anxious hours, the flood returned, and the storm 
came on with still greater violence, it soon became evi- 
dent that the water was pouring in through the seams 
which had been opened by the shock. The darkness 
greatly increased the danger, and it now became neces- 
sary to take some decisive resolution. But the con- 
sultation begun between the captain and pilot was 
suddenly and involuntarily terminated. A fearful con- 
cussion, which shook the ship in every part, as if it 
were on the point of going to .pieces, announced some 
new accident. 

The chain-cable has parted V This cry of terror 
explained the mystery. The cables, too shouted 
the captain. . Those, indeed, weaker but more flexible 
than the chain, still held fast two small anchors, but it 
might be expected that the next blast would carry off 
these last stays. 

Slip the cables ! set all sail ! every rag out V’ was, 
after a brief consultation between the officers, the next 
order. Then receiving the whole force of the gale in 
her canvas, and dashing through the foaming billows 
as if they had been but snow clouds, the ship flew 
towcard the strand. The flood-tide had already covered 
it, but the experienced steersman would not have 
missed it, although the darkness no longer jpermitted 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


45 


him to see the wharves distinctly. But the masts were 
overtasked. They bowed as if they still retained the 
elastic force with which they had resisted the winds 
on their native mountains. They leaned forward as if 
they v/ould leave the heavy hulk of the ship far behind 
them. But a distinct crackling sound proved they 
were overstrained. 

Stand by with the axes V brought every sailor to 
his post^ where all now stood in anxious expectation^ 
waiting with lifted arms^ the next command. A sud- 
den crash was heard throughout the ship above the 
howling of the tempest and the roaring of the waves^ 
and the whole rigging fell forward and sunk into the 
water, so that the lower broken ends of the masts 
pointed upward. 

Clear away ! for Grod's sake, clear away V shouted 
the captain to the sailors, who, although the ship by 
the first falling of the masts, was buried so deeply in 
the water, that it seemed as if it would never rise, now 
worked with wonderful dexterity, urged by the con- 
sciousness that their lives depended upon the quick and 
successful execution of the order. The next moment 
the sails and masts, which lately rode so proudly and 
bowed so gracefully, lay a loose, confused mass upon 
the surface of the sea, and the ship, stripped of her 
fairest ornaments, and without the means of guiding 
her course, was tossed to and fro, the helpless play- 
thing of the waves. From a seemingly animated being 
full of grace, courage, and strength, it had now become 
a dull, dead hulk, a leaky wreck. 

Under these circumstances, must they whose lives 
were now in imminent peril take some decisive step. 


46 


THE II ALL I a. 


Slioiilcl they wait to see how the conflict would end, 
which the winds and waves were carrying on around 
the dismasted vessel, these constantly pressing in and 
seeking to draw her down into their depths, those 
driving her before them with ever-increasing force, and 
threatening to dash her to pieces on the shoals ? The 
long-boat, which was lying at the foot of the mast, had 
been crushed by its fall, and was there any probability 
that they could get to the shore in the small boat, and 
in the darkness reach one of the wharves on the over- 
flowed hallig ? The passengers earnestly begged that 
this experiment might be tried. Any change was to 
them a hope of life ; to remain on the ship seemed cer- 
tain death. The captain's sense of duty would not al- 
low him to leave his post so long as a plank remained. 
But he would not oppose his passengers, and permitted 
his pilot to take them into the boat if he considered 
the attempt to reach the land in that way safer than 
remaining on board the ship. Godber, trusting to his 
precise knowledge of the channel and the hallig, con- 
sented to this, and two sailors, who, like the rest, de- 
spairing of escape, still preferred to venture a flnal 
struggle for their lives, and to go down resisting, rather 
than to remain passive and helpless on the sinking 
wreck, joined themselves to him. If there had still re- 
mained the faintest hope of saving the ship from com- 
plete destruction, it must have died away at the mo- 
ment when Godber, who alone was familiar with the 
channels and shoals of these waters, left the wreck. 
This thought passed through his own mind. Already 
he was about to relinquish the undertaking ; but, the 
weeping, imploring Idalia stood before him, and every 


THE SHIP WEE CK. 


47 


other consideration must be forgotten. The jolly-boat 
was lowered from the poop, manned by the three sea- 
men, and brought dexterously round to the leeward. 
But it required a full half hour to take in the pas- 
sengers, for the light bark was floated off* on the foam- 
ing crest of a wave far from the ship, then tossed back 
with a force which threatened to dash it against its 
side. After many attempts, which fear, as often as a 
want of skill, rendered useless, the passengers were 
obliged to be let down by ropes, and, susjiended over 
the breaking waves, must wait till the boat was again 
under them. Were they then but half a minute too 
late, the boat would have bounded far away from them 
on the top of some mountain billow, or would be hid 
from their sight in the deep, and they themselves mo- 
mentarily plunged beneath the water. Mander and 
Oswald, whose hope of saving their lives by means 
of the boat had been completely annihilated by this 
unexpected difficulty, passively followed every direction. - 
Idalia, terrified by these circumstances, long hesitated 
to follow her father and brother, and the impatience 
which her delay excited was indeed one of the causes 
that when she at length ventured, the rope which was 
to sustain her till she could be received into the boat, 
slipped from the hands of the sailors who were holding 
it on the ship, and she fell into the sea. But Godber, 
who had never turned his eyes from her, sprang in- 
stantly into the sea and held her up with a strong arm. 
But the most powerful swimmer could not have 
snatched its prey from such a raging sea. Fortunately, 
however, those in the boat succeeded in getting hold 
of one end of the rope, which was fastened round 


48 


THE HALLia. 


Idalia’s shoulders, and in this way they were drawn 
safely in. 

From the delay and excitement occasioned by this 
circumstance, it was not now easy to find again the 
right direction toward those little points of land, upon 
the reaching of which all their hopes of safety de- 
pended. Only Godber, who so well knew the position 
of the houses, and who, through the whole day, had 
scarcely turned his eyes from his beloved home, could 
discern through the darkness certain still darker points, 
and toward these he steered. A mutual farewell, and 
may God protect you'" was exchanged between those 
who remained and those who were leaving, and soon 
the dark night and rolling sea had so separated them 
that reunion would have been impossible even if it 
had been desired. Mander sat with Oswald and Idalia 
in the bottom of the boat. They uttered an occasional 
cry Avhen some huge wave dashed over the frail bark, 
and threatened to bury it altogether. The sailors, 
though despairing of life, rowed calmly and with strong 
and steady strokes as if no peril of death were near. 
Godber held the tiller with a powerful arm, skillfully 
avoiding the shock of the heaviest waves, and sought 
the safety of his little shallop by choosing, with the 
acuteness and dexterity of an experienced seaman, the 
least perilous path through the waters. In the mean 
time he looked about him with the closest scrutiny, 
whenever a high wave lifted the boat so as to give 
him a wider view. But the darkness was settling 
more' and more thickly upon the troubled sea, and it 
was only by the shortness of the waves that, after two 
hours of the severest labor on the part of the oarsmen. 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


49 


and of the closest observation on his part; he was able 
to ascertain that they were upon the overflowed surface 
of the hallig. The remains of an old wharf or any 
other object hidden under the water might now upset 
the boat and cause them all to perish. With the most 
searching glance Godber sought to discover a line of 
deeper rolling waves, which would indicate a narrow 
creek; that, as he well knew, ran far into the land in 
this direction. God strengthened his vision, and guided 
his rudder. He found an entrance where none could 
have been discovered by a less experienced eye. Then 
he called upon young Mander to take the tiller. But 
stupefied by fear and deprived of all power of action, 
he remained motionless. The father was more ready, 
and; though half unconscious, he placed himself at the 
helm ; but without the help of the sailors, who with 
their oars assisted in steering the boat, he Avould have 
done little toward carrying out the rapid orders of God- 
ber, who stood in the bow holding a long pole. As no 
one on board knew any thing of the inlet into which 
they had now entered, but every one supposed they 
were still in deep v/ater, they understood nothing of 
Godber's^ peremptory orders, now to the right now to 
the left ; but the elder Mander submitted like a slave 
who had neither thought nor will of his own, and the 
sailors like those who are accustomed to surrender their 
own judgment to the duty of unqualified obedience. 
In this way they proceeded another hour and a half, 
sometimes before the wind, and sometimes with the 
wind a-beam, without making any considerable ad- 
vance, for the frequent turns retarded the -boat, and 
the strength of the oarsmen was nearly exhausted. 

3 


50 


THE HALLia. 


Another short turn and they heard only the roaring of 
the wind, but felt it no longer, and the waves, whose 
dashing still sounded near, played more gently round 
the boat. Here their little anchor might hold, and it 
was immediately thrown over and the oars taken in. 

Astonished at this marvelous change in their circum- 
stances, Mander and the sailors gazed out into the 
night while the brother and sister gradually recovered 
from the stupor of their terror ; hut every thing about 
them was so vailed by the darkness of the night, that 
they could scarcely perceive one another, much less any 
thing beyond the boat, and all turned inquiringly to 
Godber. He alone who had guided them so wonder- 
fully, could explain. ^^We are safe,^" said he, and 
sprang toward Idalia, loosened the rope which had re- 
mained round her waist, fastened one end about his 
own body, tied the other to a boat-ring, set his pole 
in the water, and with a powerful bound leaped into 
the waves. A cry of horror escaped from all. They 
stood some minutes anxiously awaiting how this to 
them aimless adventure would end. Already they had 
given him up for lost, and with him every hope of 
escaping from the terrors of that night. Suddenly a 
loud halloo echoed as if from the clouds above them. 
The sailors answered mechanically the well-known call, 
though they could not understand hov/ the voice could 
seem so near and yet so high. In vain they strained 
their eyes ; quick as they were to discern every thing 
at sea, they could distinguish nothing here but impene- 
trable night. A few moments more of most anxious 
expectation ! See ! all at once a cheerful light shines 
through the window of a quiet dwelling which appears 


THE SHIPWRECK.- 51 

to be almost directly above them^ and after some 
seconds of motionless astonishment the sailors greeted 
its appearance with a joyous hurrah ! while the other 
three sank into each other's arms with tears of joy. 
The circumstances of their situation now became plain. 
The boat was anchored by the side of a half-overflowed 
wharf and was protected from the wind by it and the 
house which stood upon it, while the storm was raging 
round them in its full strength and apparently more 
wildly than before. The end of the rope which God- 
ber had taken ivith him he had already fastened to 
the door-post, and hauling the boat up as closely as 
possible, it served to assist them to disembark, so that 
in a few minutes they all found themselves under the 
shelter of the house. 

Here being received with the kindest hospitality and 
refreshed with the most active zeal, they did not fail to 
offer grateful tlianks to their happy deliverer, which the 
sailors did briefly with a hearty pressure of the hand 
and you are a brave pilot !" The father, too, said 
but few words and then sat down silent and thought- 
ful. Oswald could not find words enough to express 
his eternal gratitude ; he was as gay too as a child, 
laughed and joked about the borrowed clothes in which 
they were dressed, and which, though really not of the 
newest pattern, diffused an agreeable warmth through 
their chilled frames. Idalia, who had been changing 
her dress in an adjoining room, now came in ; and 
while Oswald joyfully embraced her, and laughed im- 
moderately at her strange costume, which, he said, would 
cause a furore at the next fancy ball in Hamburg, she 
was to Godber a vision which thrilled every nerve with 


52 


THE HALLIG. 


delight. She was now a maiden of the hallig. The 
hair in smooth hands partially covered by the little cap^ 
the green bodice with its short sleeves, the gay silk 
handkerchief tied in a careless knot, the striped skirt 
which was not long enough to conceal the blue stock- 
ings, all these had transferred the city belle to a modest 
lass of his own race. But that high white brow, those 
brown sparkling, speaking eyes, those fine features, 
those rosy lips and cheeks, those lovely rounded arms 
with the small delicate hands ! — no ! she was the 
heavenly counterpart of a mortal child of the hallig. 
He was still lost in contemplating her when Idalia, 
freeing herself from her brother, impelled by strong 
emotion, and forgetting every thing around her, hast- 
ened toward Godber, and with passionate impetuosity 
threw herself upon his breast, and covered him with her 
tears and kisses. It was he who by his bold and skill- 
ful conduct had saved the life of her father and 
brother ! How could she pause to consider whether 
her gratitude was overstepping its proper bounds ? 
How could she who had never been accustomed to con- 
trol her feelings from regard to others, how could she 
repress the impulses of her heart ? Her mind had 
been excited by these hours of terror to the most fear- 
ful pitch of anguish, and now her joy at her escape 
was equally uncontrollable. In the gentlest tones, 
which scarcely amounted to words, and which were 
constantly interrupted by floods of tears, she thanked 
Godber for her life. As often as the thought of the 
dreadful death from which she had escaped presented 
itself to her, she shuddered at the terrible image, and 
clung still closer to the neck of her dehverer, as if he 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


53 


were to lift her again out of the awful deep. And 
Godber — there stood the manly youth trembling with 
rapture as one to whom the door of a new unlooked- 
for existence had suddenly opened. Alas ! poor Maria's 
star of hope had set in that long wished-for hour of her 
lover's return. 


CHAPTEE lY. 

THE CITY BELLE. 

Say, bringst thou home again 
Thy former love and truth ? 
Live with us happy then; 

We greet thee all again 
With former love and truth. 


The next morning the sky was bright and cheerful. 
Behind the dykes on the mainland the morning sun 
rose and seemed to throw a look of curiosity toward the 
hallig, as if to ascertain what had been the destruction 
of the preceding nighty and to inquire whether there 
were still living beings there to be refreshed by his 
beams. The sea flowed calmly on in its ordinary bed, 
and seemed to say, smilingly, to those in whose ears the 
fearful roar of the late storm was still ringing — “ You 
have only dreamed V 

Godber, who, notwithstanding the exertions he had 
been forced to make during the dangers described in 
our last chapter, had slept little, now stood before "he 
door of the hospitable dwelling. His heart was agi- 
tated by a variety of emotions. There lay before him 
the soil of his hallig, after which, even on the blooming 
shores of Italy and on the rich plains of Holland, he 


THE CITY BELLE. 


55 


had longed with such a feeling of home-sickness^ the soil 
upon which alone he could be happy^ from which to 
tear himself again would be impossible. For this home 
he had struggled and toiled in distant lands. The 
thought of it had stimulated him to unwearied activity, 
to the most ready obedience, to the most earnest zeal 
in the fulfillment of all his duties ; had restrained him 
from all the enjoyments of his class and incessantly 
admonished him to practice the most careful economy. 
Every new accession to his little treasury, which he al- 
ways carried about him, and had therefore preserved 
through this last peril, had been the commencement 
of a new dream of a happy return to which he on 
such occasions surrendered himself for hours. Only his 
desire for improvement, his efforts to obtain an educa- 
tion above his condition, could induce him occasionally 
to draw upon his earnings, but he economized all the 
more rigidly to make up for such outlays. Now he had 
reached it. There stood the paternal roof. A thrill 
passed through his frame and tears of joy moistened 
his cheek. A stranger who could have seen that naked 
tract, with its scanty grass half buried in the mud of 
the late inundation, and its deeply washed and shat- 
tered wharves, and called to mind the preceding night 
which had brought so near to death every thing upon 
the island, would never have suspected that such a 
home could draw from the young man tears of joy. 
But for this sight Godber had endured for nine years 
a life of toil and danger full of privation and self-denial, 
and had it been twenty years that he had so suffered 
and toiled, he would not have thought his return too 
dearly bought. 


66 


THE HALLIG. 


Yet his joy was not unmixed. He could not bow his 
knee before God, wdio had graciously protected and led 
him back to the home of his fathers. Had he done so, 
perhaps he might have recovered his former heart 
again. The vain dream might have vanished. His 
oath of fidelity to Maria might have been kept, and the 
seductive form of Idalia have lost its power. 

In every man^s life indeed such bewitching visions 
sometimes rise, disturb his inward peace, and prevent 
him from seeing clearly the duty which lies nearest to 
him ; and if they are not mere dreams of fancy, but 
rather called forth by extraordinary circumstances, they 
often seem to him like the voice of destiny. They 
hover about his soul as if inviting him to enjoyments 
from which only narrow scruples and w^ant of self- 
reliance have hitherto withheld him, and which are cer- 
tain to him if he will only venture to exert his powers. 
They point out to him a future, in comparison with 
which all that a quiet continuance in his former course, 
a firm adherence to early principles, a willing obedience 
to the hitherto supposed commands of God, have to 
offer, seem vapid, colorless, even unworthy of him. It 
seems to him that he has only to take a stej:) forward to 
escape a long servitude, and to enter into a paradise 
whose gates he has himself, till now, kept obstinately 
shut. He asks himself why he should not break the 
feeble bars of duty and conscience ; indeed he fancies 
these bonds are mere nursery tales, which he ought to 
have outgrown, or that he now first understands what 
duty and conscience really require of him. At such 
times there is nothing in man that can restrain him 
or point out to him the right path. The solid ground 


THE CITY BELLE. 


67 


upon which he has hitherto walked firmly has slid from 
beneath his feet ; the objects of his past life become 
confused, and his thoughts and emotions at the new 
prospect have not yet become familiar to him. In 
this situation he can have no aid but that which comes 
from above. Let him then raise his mind and thoughts 
to the strong tower of pure truth, let him hold fast with 
eye and heart the eternal word of the Great J udge of 
quicl^ and dead. Let him leave the world and its 
dreams a moment behind him, and lose himself entirely 
in the contemplation of Him who, through His holy 
spirit, makes the pious heart a temj)le for Himself. 
And this spirit will give him the light which he needs. 
The cloudy phantoms will have disappeared when he 
looks at his path. He will recognize them as the 
shadows of some sin concealed in the background, and 
now he clearly sees his way and walks on with confi- 
dence. 

But Godber did not pray ; and his eye and soul 
grew darker as h^ threw a hasty glance toward the 
abode of Maria. A feeling like a pang of conscience 
seized him ; but he shrunk from an examination of 
himself, and was glad when the recollection of the 
Avreck he had left in the storm, and of those who re- 
mained upon it, repressed every other thought. He 
turned his searching eye toward the west side of the 
hallig — there lay the ship on her side not far from the 
shore. He hurried rapidly toward it. But his way led 
him by the dwelling of Maria, and his heart felt 
strangely as he approached it, his blood fiowed faster 
in his veins and gave his cheeks a deeper red. He un- 
consciously trod more lightly as if he feared by the 
3 * 


58 


THE HALLia. 


noise of his step to awaken liis betrothed from a dream 
of hope, and call her to the door which, to his joy, still 
remained shut. When he had passed, he felt as if 
a weight had fallen from his heart, without considering 
how little was gained by so short a respite. Again the 
wreck occupied his whole attention, and in a few 
minutes he was on the beach. But he strained his eyes 
in vain ; he could discover no human form. He waded 
out as far as possible, and sent his ringing hallqo over 
the waters. There was no reply. Silent and motion- 
less lay the now shapeless hulk before him, which, so 
lately full of life and activity, was, with wide-spread 
pinions, plowing the waves. After repeated attempts 
to call forth a reply, Godber was obliged to yield to the 
conviction that his comrades had perished ; and the 
thought forced itself upon him, that it would have 
been better for him to have been buried with them 
in the sea, than to survive, conscious of a double 
faithlessness, first toward the ship whose helm had been 
intrusted to him, and which, like every true sailor, 
he loved as a bride, and secondly, toward the betrothed 
of his earliest youth. He gazed long and fixedly, with 
a troubled mind, until by reflecting on the events of 
the past night, Idalia's image rose before him, and 
drew to itself every thought and every emotion. An 
indescribable longing to see her again took possession 
of him. He reproached himself for not having waited 
to receive her morning salutation, and hastily retraced 
his steps. 

He was thoughtlessly passing near the houser of 
Maria — suddenly the door opened, and she came out 
with her water-pail. Her first look fell upon Godber. 


THE CITY BELLE. 


59 


She threw down her pail^ and, springing from the wharf, 
flew toward him, and with a joyful cry, Godber, is it 
you seized the hand which he mechanically stretched 
toward her. Had he pressed her to his heart, she would 
have received and returned his kiss without affectation. 
But she was in no way disconcerted that he did not do 
so, for the daughter of the hallig was accustomed to a 
more quiet expression of affection, than the passionate 
inhabitants of the mainland would have thought proper 
on such occasions. But she knew that he had remained 
true to her, and even if he had not written this to her, 
was he not a child of her own home, where want of faith 
between those who have been betrothed from their 
childhood, is as unheard-of as that between married 
persons ? 

Where did you come from to-day? We did not 
expect you till to-morrow from Husum, for you were in 
the ship which we saw anchored far in the offing yes- 
terday ; were you not ? What has become of the ship 
then ?” Saying this, she looked eagerly toward the an- 
chorage at which she had gazed the day before with 
such longing hope. 

There it is,'" said Godber, stretching out his hand 
toward the wreck. 

Good God !" cried Maria, now almost sunk on the 
breast of her lover. And so you were struggling with 
death while I was dreaming of you so quietly. We 
heard but little of the storm in the front room, and sup- 
posed it had passed over. But I told mother we ought 
to set a light in the back-room, and I should have liked 
to watch by it. She thought it might mislead vessels 
unacquainted with the coast, and laughed at me be- 


60 


THE HALLIG. 


cause I was so certain that you were on hoard the ship. 
And now you have been wrecked. Oh^ how much you 
must have suffered ! and how I should have wept if you 
had been lost. Oh^ I should have died too \” And then 
she covered her face with her apron, and wept from fear 
and joy. 

Godber trembled like a criminal. The tears of the 
girl fell like burning drops upon his heart. His tender- 
ness for her returned for a moment. He clasped her in 
his arms, pressed her passionately to his heart, and as 
she raised her moist blue eyes, so full of love, the image 
of Idalia was effaced from his heart. 

But Maria freed herself quickly from him, and ex- 
claimed, Poor Godber, how you tremble ! Come into 
the house immediately. The tea shall be ready in a 
moment. How glad mother will be when you stand be- 
fore her bed. Are you the only one saved 

This question turned GodbePs thoughts at once to 
Idalia. He fell back into his first coldness toward 
Maria, and said hurriedly, and in broken words. 

There are others saved. Farewell, for the present. 
I must carry them news of the ship.'’^ 

‘^Wait a moment,"' said Maria ; where are they 
I "11 go with you. Only let me tell mother f and she 
sprang gayly up the wharf, and in a few moments was 
again with Godber who had remained motionless, and 
in silent despair. 

They now walked on together ; he with a troubled 
mind, and speaking only in monosyllables ; she, with 
sparkling eyes, and with a lively talkativeness quite un- 
usual to her. She had so much to tell him ; how she 
had longed for his return ; how she had thought of him 


THE CITY BELLE. 


61 


in all lier occupations ; how industriously she had spun 
to make ready for the housekeeping ; and then she 
named to him every article which she had in readiness, 
part of which she was to receive from her mother, and 
the rest she had prepared for herself. Godber felt as if 
in some painful dream, which was constantly pressing 
more and more heavily upon his heart. But she talked 
on — how she had prayed God so often to bring him 
safely back again ;• with what confidence she relied upon 
the fulfillment of her petition ; with what heartiness 
she would thank her Heavenly Father for his goodness 
and mercy ; and she hoped He would not be offended 
with her because she had not yet been able, from the 
excess of her joy, to frame a proper thanksgiving. 
While she with childish simplicity sometimes addressed 
herself to God, and sometimes spoke to Godber about 
their going to church together for the first time, her 
words fell like lead upon his heart. He was obliged to 
stop to recover his breath, and his knees threatened to 
fail him. 

Maria observed it ; but not suspecting the true cause, 
she took him tenderly by the arm, and reproached him 
for having refused to take refreshment at her mother’s ; 
he was so much exhausted, and it was quite wrong in 
him not to have fairly rested. But just wait a little,” 
she added ; for the next fortnight you shall not stir 
from the arm-chair. I will nurse you like a baby. 
Wrapped in father’s sheepskin, and with his woolen 
night-cap over your ears, you shall get thoroughly warm 
again. 

‘^Really it is dreadful — the way in which you have 
exposed your health by refusing to come into the 


62 


THE HALLia. 


liouse/^ continued she^ half angiy and half weeping, as 
they came to the slender timber stretched across the 
creek, here some yards in breadth, and which certainly 
would have been called a foot-bridge by none but an 
inhabitant of the hallig, as it was laid with one of its- 
angles uppermost to prevent the sheep from passing. 
Maria bounded lightly over ; Grodber followed her slowly 
and tremblingly. 

As they entered the house, they found the whole fam- 
ily gathered around the large table at breakfast, which 
consisted only of tea, with black bread and butter, and 
sheep’s milk cheese. Idalia still wore the costume of 
the hallig ; but she had managed by her inventive fancy 
and tasteful choice, to give many an additional charm, 
without detracting any thing from its peculiarity. Her 
hair, though smoothed back from her forehead, was only 
partially confined under the little cap, several ringlets 
being allowed to fall over her shoulders. She had also 
borrowed from the casket, which contained the family 
ornaments, and which she was surprised to find so \vp] 1 
filled, a long gold chain which now glittered on her 
breast, being used to lace the bodice loosely at the top, 
and more snugly as it approached the waist, according 
to the fashion adopted by the brides of the hallig. Her 
good taste had led her not to wear the gold medallions 
which are generally suspended from it. As Godber 
stood, she rose, and approached him with irresistible love- 
liness in every feature ; not indeed with the all-forget- 
ting passionateness of yesterday, but with a smile that 
showed she was confident of pleasing him. But we should 
do Idalia injustice were we to represent her conduct to- 
warcLGodber as pure coquetry. Unaccustomed as she was 


THE CITY BELLE. 


63 


to consider the relations of things^ or think of conse- 
quences where her ovm inclinations were concerned, she 
now resigned herself to the imj)ulse of the moment, and 
this impulse was more than gratitude toward the pre- 
server of her life. It was, if not a love capable of every 
sacrifice, an ebullition of passion which makes as strong 
claims upon its object. She desired to please in order 
to win the heart of the young man for whom her own 
spoke warmly, and she was far from wishing merely to 
make him the slave of her caprice, although her whole 
conduct was guided by motives of which only a coquette 
is capable. Godber gazed upon the lovely image with 
silent rapture. Fixed to the spot where he stood', he 
saw her move toward him v/ith a look which penetrated 
the depths of his soul. As she now seized his hand, 
pressed it to her heart, and with melting tones, said 
familiarly, ^^Godber, my deliverer ! how could you leave 
us so early without receiving my thanks for a morning, 
which, without you, I should never have seen V At 
these words he almost sunk at her feet ; and Idalia had 
obtained the most complete victory. This was not un- 
observed by her, as the satisfied smile on her lips plainly 
showed. He must sit down by her side, while Maria, 
timid, embarrassed, and suddenly disconcerted, in the 
presence of the stranger, scarcely ventured to seat her- 
self opposite to Idalia, and only threw half glances to- 
ward her whose delicate beauty, and whose costume, 
familiar, yet strange, fixed all her attention. She could 
not avoid a feeling which was more than mere un- 
easiness, at her appearance, and the familiar manner 
of the strangers toward Godber. She could not help 
involuntarily comparing the rounded, but slender form 


64 


THE HALLIG. 


and the dazzling charms of Idalia^ with her own face, 
browned by the sun, and her hands and arms which 
spoke of heavy toil ; her manner, easy and graceful, 
yet far from the imposing airs of pride, with her own 
awkward bashfulness. She, who was, without question, 
the most beautiful of the hallig maidens, in her mod- 
esty, set herself far below the stranger— much further 
indeed, than she really deserved to stand. What God- 
ber's coldness in responding to the joy she had experi- 
enced at their meeting, could not awaken, the sight of 
the stranger soon forced upon her : doubt of the truth 
of her betrothed. It was not only Idalia's behavior to 
Godber, which so pierced her heart, but the jealousy of 
love, which lends to the simplest maid a sharpness of 
vision, not easy to be deceived, when she is with her 
lover in the company of some other woman, would 
have forced upon her many observations independent of 
Idalia^s familiarity with the young man. Maria’s heart 
was soon to be completely broken. 

Who is the dear girl asked Idalia in the kindest 
tone, accompanied, however, by a searching glance at 
Godber, as if she knew how much the answer con- 
cerned her. 

Maria blushed deeply, but at the same time looked 
up with a certain conscious pride toward the stranger. 
Godber colored still more deeply. His eyes fell to the 
floor, and his voice trembled, when, after a moment’s 
pause, he said, Maria Nommens.” 

He seemed to wish to add something, but was silent. 
Maria listened yet another moment, full of anguish — he 
was still silent. Pale as death, she pressed her hand 
upon her heart, where every pulse had ceased, and saw 


THE CITY BELLE. 


65 


and heard no more. That he could not or did not wish 
to add my betrothed/" was decisive of her fate. By 
this silence the happiness of her life was destroyed. 
She now knew that she had lost him. Idalia had some 
suspicions of the real state of things. The embarrass- 
ment of both did not escape her, but the joy of having 
Godber for herself almost overcame her sympathy for 
the poor girl. Godber, too, felt that he, by not speak- 
ing of his connection with Maria, had confessed every 
thing, and did not suppose it possible for her to regard 
this silence as insignificant. He did not dare to look 
up, and sat in the most painful uneasiness, till, to his 
great relief, Mander inquired whether he had Seen any 
thing of the ship. He started up hastily, and with an 
interest quite inconsistent with his previous silence on 
the subject, told what he had seen, and the probable 
fate of those they had left on board. 

They all now decided to go down to the wreck. 
Maria followed slowly and alone. She only saw how, 
on arriving at the above-mentioned crossing, Idalia 
trembled at the giddy pass, and after several vain at- 
tempts to get over with the help of Godber"s hand, at 
last threw her arm about his neck, and was carried by 
him to the opposite side. Her tears now fell un- 
checked. She thought no more of following them, but 
arriving at her own home, she staggered up the wharf 
and threw herself sobbing into a chair. Maria re- 
mained alone with her sorrow. Curiosity had taken her 
mother to the beach, where nearly all the inhabitants 
of the hallig were assembled. When Godber had 
joined the company, after the first greetings of wel- 
come had been bestowed, it was proposed to drag a 


66 


THE HALLIH. 


boat through the ooze till they could reach a sufficient 
depth to float it when manned. In this way they 
boarded the wreck, and examined it with the greatest 
care. There was no trace either of the living or the 
dead. Probably when the ship capsized, -the captain 
and sailors had been washed from the deck, and it was 
most likely that one of the next flood tides would 
throw their bodies upon the shore. Some valuables 
were taken off, and Godber did not forget to secure for 
Idalia a box of southern fruits and a basket which con- 
tained some bottles of sweet wine. The saving of the 
remainder of the cargo, which chiefly consisted of casks 
of wine and boxes of oranges, was the next object. 
Cordage was tied to the stump of the masts, and slung 
round various parts of the wreck, and then fastened at 
the other end to the shore. While those who had re- 
turned from the ship were telling in what condition 
they had found things on board, Mander talked about 
the rate of salvage with the people, who, to his aston- 
ishment, did not wish to make any contract, but were 
willing to leave every thing to his own sense of jus- 
tice, and gave him their services with the most ready 
good-will, proving in this way their disinterested- 
ness. In the mean time Idalia, with the help of her 
brother, who, as he said, desired some refreshment fit 
for human beings, had opened a box of oranges and a 
flask of wine, from which Oswald immediately took two 
long draughts. She now peeled with her snowy fingers 
one of the sweet oranges, and gracefully dividing it, 
offered half to Godber, with the most cordial thanks 
for his thoughtfulness. She then sipped a little wine 
from the flask, and reaching it smilingly to him. 


THE CITY BELLE. 


67 


begged he would not refuse the refreshing beverage. 
The lips of the delighted young man seemed held as if 
by enchantment to the place which hers had so lately 
touched, and only Idalia's question, why he had not 
thought to ’bring her box of clothing from the ship, 
roused him from his reverie. 

Ah,’" exclaimed he, I should wish never to see 
you in any other dress than this of my own island/" 

He blushed at the confession contained in these 
words. Idalia"s cheeks, too, became of a deeper color, 
and it was only after a pause that she replied in a low 
tone, as she bent gracefully toward him : 

I will wear no other as long as this gives you pleas- 
ure. But I suppose all of you who live on this island 
must be connected either by blood or marriage, for I 
have heard no mode of address except the familiar 
thou. If then you would wish to consider me as a 
hallig maiden why (k) you address me alone with the 
cold you 

A thrill of surprise and delight closed Godber"s lips. 
His eye rested inquiringly upon her for a moment, but 
an expression of deep feeling was too evident in that 
friendly smile and that gentle tone : he could no longer 
doubt the fulfillment of his boldest hopes. While the 
long silken lashes fell over her eyes as if to punish them 
for telling too much, and her lips contracted as if for 
fear of saying more till she knew how what she had al- 
ready said would be received, he sunk gradually at her 
feet. Though startled at the passionate action of the 
young man, yet with a sudden self-recollection, she 
took his hand for a moment, and then turning away 
from him left him to recover his self-possession. But 


68 


THE HALLia. 


who could blame the lover for reading a responsive 
in that pressure of the hand and the look 
■which accompanied it. She now called her father, and 
asked him to partake of the refreshment which Alicant 
had presented to the beach of a hallig. 

Let us not be surprised that Idalia, who had ob- 
served the impression made upon Godber by her charms 
while they were still on board the ship, should have 
hastened to gain a complete triumph on his heart by a 
response so ready as to seem scarce maidenly. It was 
not in her character to find any pleasure in the fears 
and uncertainties of love. She wished to see her de- 
sires speedily accomplished without the tormenting sus- 
pense between fear and hope. The probable shortness 
of her stay on the hallig urged her still more to this 
course, since she could not help fearing that a fev/ days 
at most, would separate her from Godber, whom she 
loved as sincerely as her selfish i^ature was capable of 
loving. Early novel-reading, too, had long since de- 
stroyed that timid delicacy which is a j)art of woman's 
nature, and which, like the soft fragrant enamel on 
flowers, that subdues and yet beautifies their colors, 
adds more to her charms than any acquired grace, but 
an assumption of which is the most disagreeable of all 
atfectations. 

This fair inheritance, this never-to-be-recovered fra- 
grance of maidenly modesty, is lost to your daughters, 
ye careless parents, who permit them to read any thing, 
almost without exception, which belles-lettres literature 
offers. With your rules of propriety, with your pru- 
dential maxims, with your notions of honor, you can 
never recreate that incense of unconscious innocence 


THE CITY BELLE. 


69 


which should pervade the whole life and conduct of 
woman^ like a breath from the pure Heavenly fields, 
and that makes her recall to us the lilies of which our 
Lord said that even Solomon in all his glory was not 
arrayed like one of these.'' With this dowry is not 
only lost a charm which the most dazzling beauty and 
the most perfect cultivation can never supply, but there 
is no longer any restraint upon the passions, and a 
course of conduct soon follows which despises all your 
counsels, and brings your gray hairs with sorrow to 
the grave. You cherish your flowers, and protect them 
from the night vapors, and the fierce beams of the 
noon-day sun, but you suffer your daughters, by novel- 
reading, to live in a world whose poisonous atmosphere 
is favorable only to the growth of unhappy passions, 
and which is all the more fatal because so attractive to 
the fancy. Eeligion, their only defense, is there trans- 
formed to a floral queen, who, crowned with bright gar- 
lands, watches the display with an approving smile, 
and speaks to them only in tones of love, gentleness, 
and indulgence. 

The eye of the maiden, and even of the wife, need 
not be too widely opened to the great theater of human 
passions ; they sliould rather, in innocent ignorance of 
the errors and crimes of mankind, preserve a devout and 
quiet spirit, with an undisturbed feeling for the good, 
the true, and the beautiful. While man must neces- 
sarily engage in the great conflict, and is fortunate if he 
return from it with only lasting scars, her modest place 
in the world, her more delicate physical organization, 
and her natural sensibility, in which she rather re- 
sembles the mimosa, than the sturdy oak which has 


TO 


THE IIALLIG. 


grown ujD amid storms and tempests, seem to mark 
out for her a quiet path. But her ordinary reading, if 
not her actual life, opens to her a realm that would 
have better remained closed, and she is placed in situ- 
ations which, though they are but imaginary, take a 
happy vail from her eyes, making her discontented with 
lier lot, and producing a fruit of knowledge, like thal 
of Eve's, which cost a paradise. 

Far be it from us to consider in the education of 
woman only the cradle and the fireside. But certainly 
every species of cultivation which makes domestic life 
intolerable to her must be wrong. Neither would Ave 
encourage a superficial culture, which aims only ai 
show ; and yet we would rather her mind should be 
ripened by the results of knowledge, than lose itself ir 
the depths of research. We are far, too, from wishing 
to see a dreamy sentimentalism without strength or 
poAver of endurance ; but the refined heart anticipate^! 
the overloaded reason, and, at once detesting the false 
and the sinful, has already given the Avill the right di 
rection Avhile the other is still examining and Aveighing 
the confiicting arguments. And over this heart let Re- 
ligion hover, penetrating and enlightening it Avith hei 
mild beams, but still wrapped in a rosy vail, AAdiich 
shall provoke no desire to withdraAv it, and only excite 
a pure and holy love. Religion should appear only to 
man, never to woman, as Theology — the stately queen 
whose throne is built upon the ruins of superstition, 
doubt, and unbelief. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE GBEAT W O K L D , 

In want they pine, 

With wealth nntold; 

Hearts warm with wine, 

-• And yet so cold I 

Eefined are they-*- 
Tet what alloy! 

Pleasure and play, 

And yet no joy! 

Griitter and show — 

Ho beam from heaven; 

Can greater woe 
By death be given? 

The pastor Hold now joined the group assembled on 
the shore. Having been but a few years on the island^ 
he had never seen Godber^ but he had learned to know 
him through Maria^ and therefore gave him a friendly 
greeting. 

The house which had first received the strangers not 
being large enough to accommodate them comfortably, 
the pastor and other persons of the congregation offered 
their own dwellings ; but as there was the same want 
of space in all, a separation of the party seemed to be 
necessary. Godber, however, proposed to furnish the 
house formerly owned by his father, but now unoccu- 


72 


THE HALLia. 


pied^ with the most necessary articles ; and as the vacant 
sheep-fold would he the best place for storing such por- 
tions of the cargo as might be saved from the wreck, 
and those present readily offered their aid in completing 
the arrangement, Idalia gave her voice for the accept- 
ance of this proposal. She expressed her delight by 
clapping her hands at the prospect of governing there, 
as house-wife regent, and her fancy really painted a 
most attractive idyllic picture of this domestic rule. 
But her father thought it proper to ask for an older 
and more experienced Martha to be her assistant. The 
three strangers, with Godber and an old matron of the 
hallig, now went into the vacant house, and the others 
separated to return each to his own dwelling, there to 
select the furniture most necessary to their guests. 
Through the day, Idalia was fully employed in arrang- 
ing every thing in the most comfortable and tasteful 
manner that her materials permitted. Ten times at 
least must the position of a chair be changed ; then a 
table must be moved to the other side ; and it required 
all the patience of a woman trained on the hallig to ex- 
ecute orders vdiich must have seemed to her so entirely 
v/ithouf: motive. 

Godber smiled within himself to see this industry ; 
and to carry out the directions of Idalia, he worked as 
zealously as if he had been preparing the captain's 
cabin for the reception of distinguished visitors. Man- 
der himself was pleased to observe in his daughter an 
interest in these occupations which he had never before 
seen. Oswald only remarked jokingly, that it was lucky 
for them- that their dinner had been promised from the 
parsonage ; and compared his sister with cousin Fritz, 


THE GREAT WORLD. 


73 


who, in a discussion, being accused of growing more 
and more confused, answered hastily, ^^No ; I am only 
arranging piy thoughts."’" 

It may be time here to look a little more closely at the 
character of young Mander. If he has shown himself 
hitherto only as one of those miserable, vapid beings on 
whom the sensuous side of life alone has influence, and 
who are not capable of being elevated above mere 
physical enjoyments, he has not manifested his charac- 
ter so fully as to render our judgment of it quite cer- 
tain. On the contrary, although two years younger 
than his sister, who was now twenty-three, his exterior 
was no longer the mirror of his heart. While she 
united calculation and impulse, so that the most expe- 
rienced observer of human nature would have found it 
difficult to decide what was the real spring of her ac- 
tion, and even she herself would have been embarrassed 
to understand her own motives, he possessed a heart 
capable of the warmest susceptibility for. all that is 
truly great and' beautiful, though the aims of his life 
had been almost exclusively directed to mere sensual 
enjoyment. It was not really a mask which he had as- 
sumed, when he spoke and acted as if he knew nothing 
higher than the well-being of the body and the gratifica- 
tion of the senses ; but he rather belonged to that class 
of city young men who call it the philosophy of life to 
drown every earnest tone of the heart in the noise of 
mirth and revelry. He was yet too young to have the 
germs of a true life entirely overgrown and choked by 
that philosophy which is the offspring of a fallen spirit, 
who, wishing to cover his own degradation, and silence 
the voice of conscience^ dignifies his brutishness by the 

4 


74 


THE HALLIG. 


name of a system. But he had been too docile a pupil 
at the feet of this soul-destroyer^ not to persuade himself 
that he was precisely what he gave himself out to be^ or 
at least able to maintain in the presence of others the 
appearance of being a master in this miserable school. 
Naturally there must be hours in life like those he had 
lately passed on the sea, which showed him the truth. 
But for that very reason he strove the more to drive 
them from his memory ; and he understood how to 
banish from his mind that view of the world which such 
moments had forced upon him and others, by an imme- 
diate return to his former course of life, however loudly 
the warning voice of his awakened ' conscience might 
speak to the contrary. His laughing and jesting, imme- 
diately after their escape from the most imminent peril, 
was therefore rather an unnatural exertion of his power 
over himself, than, as he wished to believe, and make 
others believe, a proof of his thoughtlessness. 

It would require the voice of a prophet to awaken 
those dreamers who are walking in the same path as 
Oswald — men and women who are in possession of all 
the wealth and pleasures of life — except life itself. 
But the truth of Christ's words, ^^He that believeth 
not is condemned already," is never more fully exempli- 
fied than in them. The empty poverty of their exist- 
ence in the. midst of abundance is their condemnation. 
The mere description of one of their charming days" 
operates as a blight upon the mind. That endless 
toilet with all its miserable arts, the delight at a suc- 
cessful knot — at the grace of some new-fashioned gar- 
ment — that last triumphant glance at the mirror — those 
pleasing anticipations of admiration — now a couple of 


THE GKEAT WORLD. 75 

visits made or received, a conversation in set form where 
nothing is said or intended to he said — the subjects 
being the first melon, the new opera, or the last ball, 
on which they linger as if conscious that their whole 
storehouse of thought had been expended there. For- 
tunate is it for the visitor if he has some town news to 
communicate, a newly published novel, or some fresh 
piece of scandal, as in this way, he may earn the praise 
of being an interesting and agreeable talker. Now 
comes the table with its wine and other luxuries — an 
excellent opportunity to talk of delicate constitutions, 
war and peace, famine and cholera, poj)ular revolutions 
and military parades, served up much in the same 
manner as the dishes. Then the concert, where the 
most melting tones are designed only to win a2)plause 
and pay, and not to touch the heart— or the theater 
where Theda listens to the ghostly voice of the 
prompter, and the murdered Wallenstein is thinking 
hoYv^ he shall thank his applauding public, while the 
same public is coquetting from box to box, forgetful of 
every thing else — or the ball where the giddy whirl of 
the waltz fans up the last spark of passion in the \vorn- 
out heart, and then the artificially heated blood is 
cooled again with artificial ice. And this life whose 
orgies we could not wish to unvail, however well they 
•may suit the fine polish and graces of this class of per- 
sons — is it not pitiable ? In comparison with such hol- 
lowness and insipidity is not the bold transgressor of 
Grod's commands still a man ? He is still something, 
and therefore may yet be made to feel that there is a 
Judge of quick and dead, and be brought bark from his 
evil ways. But with the above described cl s of per- 


7G THE II ALL I a. 

sons their poverty is their riches, their degradation 
their pride, their folly wisdom, and their co'." demnation 
blessedness. 

To the careless observer they may appear fair, but 
they are dead within — a decaying fruit which has fallen 
from the tree of life and now lies in the dust contented 
with its place and desirng no reunion with the parent 
stem. 

Pastor Hold probably entertained views very similar 
to those we have expressed, after he had become better 
acquainted with Oswald and recalled to himself his 
own experience in town society. Por we find in a man- 
uscript of his, to which he had given the somewhat 
quaint title of Sights,' ' and from which we may 
j)erhaps hereafter make some further extracts, the 
following Sight" apparently written about that 
period. 

I saw a little girl with all the marks of hunger on 
her pale sunken cheeks, sitting by the wayside, clad in 
rags of the deepest poverty. Her age might have been 
ten or twelve years, but lier form was weak and puny 
like the sickly growth of a hot-house. A woman neatly 
but humbly clad passed, carrying in her arms a smiling 
infant and leading a lively boy by the hand. A basket 
hung on her arm. Pier hasty step was arrested by the 
sight of the little girl ; she dropped the hand of her 
boy and looked at her basket. But she passed on, and 
crossing over a little foot-bridge w^ent up to a man who 
was working in the field. He wiped the perspiration 
from his brow and took the black bread from the basket 
while the boy filled a flask from the adjacent spring. 
The little girl looked over Ifom the road at the bread, 


THE GREAT WORLD. 


77 


and the laborer breaking it went to her and gave her 
half. She thanked him by the eagerness with which 
she carried the gift to her mouth. The man then 
looked at her more attentively^ and after a moment he 
laid the other half of the bread in her lap. The child 
forgot her hunger and looked wonderingly after him as 
he crossed the ditch. But the wife passed her hands 
over her eyes as if she were weeping, then with her 
apron wiped her husband's forehead, and I thought she 
kissed him. Then they sat down together under the 
shade of a thorn-tree, and the empty basket stood be- 
side them ; but they played with the smiling baby. 
Meanwhile a carriage rolled by, and they who were 
within, turned away from the persons on their right 
hand, and I only heard the remark of a gentleman 
who was riding on the left side : ^ What a stupid piece 
The Orphan'' proved to be.’ 

Then thought I to myself, ^ They are condemned 
already.' 

I went on further and saw the laborer in the field 
nod at me kindly as I gave the child a small coin. I 
colored with shame — hov/ much more had he given ! 

The scenery was growing more and more beautiful 
as I advanced. It was spread out before me like a gar- 
den of God, clothed in beauty, filled with the riches of 
His glory, dropping with the blessings of His goodness, 
and fragrant with the breath of His presence. There 
a chain of sheltering mountains whose free tops rose 
over the dark pine forests, here the rich, soft green pas- 
ture where the well-fed cow lay stretched on the clover, 
while the fiery horse practiced his strength in the race. 
Lower down flowed the winding stream, a welcome 


78 


THE HALLIG. 


channel to the sailor after the perils of the ocean, a 
fountain of u'ealth to the fisherman. I went on still 
further to the broad-armed, thick-leaved oak, on the 
top of the hill. There a voice from on high seemed to 
say, ^ Taste and see how gracious the Lord is." In this 
temple of God my foot had found that altar by which 
no one can pass without casting a look at the wide- 
spread manifestations of God"s goodness, or without 
ofiering a sacrifice of admiration and thanksgiving to 
Him whose works are so great and so numberless, who 
orders them all in wisdom, and fills the earth with His 
goodness. And it was long before, happy and transfig- 
ured, like one whose faith has been turned to sight, I 
drew near the house at the foot of the hill. It rose with 
its red tiles very conspicuously above the exotic shrub- 
bery which surrounded it, and by its great size con- 
cealed half of the village which lay behind it. The 
inscription, ^<To rural, enjoyment shone in large gilt 
letters over the door. In the front court stood many 
carriages, and servants in richly embroidered liveries 
were shouting in an adjoining bowling-alley. The 
guests within were amusing themselves in a noisy ^vay 
at billiards, and as I looked for a more quiet side room 
I met the dark looks of some card-players whom I had 
disturbed. I tied from their ill-natured murmurs to 
another room. Here sat many gentlemen and ladies 
turning over newspapers and journals, till the repre- 
sentation of a Parisian fancy dress attracted every eye 
and called forth a variety of longing exclamations and 
witty remarks. But all this in no way disturbed a 
young lady, who was at the piano singing to her own 
satisfaction an aria from Fra Diavolo. As she rose they 


THE GREAT WORLD. 


79 


all pressed round her to express their admiration of her 
enchanting song and artistic playing. 

Then rose to my mind that garden of God which 
was lying all around them, and I said to myself. 
^ They are condemned already.^ 

Suddenly we heard a voice, outside the window, say- 
ing, Sing something to us,' and all eyes were now 
directed toward the street : I looked with the rest. 

There stood the child of the Tvayside. She had list- 
ened to the song, and was about to steal away when 
she saw herself noticed. But some one offered her a 
silver coin, and told her to sing, while a gentleman, 
whom I recognized as the rider who had passed me 
with the carriage, said, with knit brows and a threat- 
ening voice, ^ Begone, girl !' 

^ No, she must sing,^ exclaimed the rest. The 
gentleman then threw a dollar into the street before 
the child, and called out again, ^ Away with you !' 

The rest of the company ordered a servant to stop 
her, and would not be deprived of the fine sport of hear- 
ing the doggerel verses of a street song from the re- 
luctant lips of an innocent child. 

^ I can't sing,' stammered the poor girl in distress. 

^ Then tell us some song that you know ; otherwise 
you can't put a finger on the dollar.' 

The child looked toward the money that lay at her 
feet, then toward the gentleman who had thrown it, 
but who had now" retired in bad humor from the win- 
dow, and began at length with a trembling voice : 

“ ‘ He who is willing that God should reign, 

Who sees by faith — ’ 


80 


THE HALLIG. 


the shouts of laughter which these words 
called forth^ terrified the poor girl, a deep flush of 
shame mounted to her cheeks, and, like a hunted roe, 
she flew down the street. 

The servant picked up the dollar and hurried with 
it to the bar-room. But the company after this inter- 
lude begged the accomplished singer for an air from 
^ Robert the Devik’ 

Then thought I, ^ They are condemned already.^ 

This house was too close for me, and I set out to 
w^alk through the village. Near one of the last houses, 
I heard a scolding voice — ^ You vagrant, do you never 
come into my sight again and an angry old peasant 
woman pushed the little wanderer from the door. 

She seated herself upon a stone and wept bitterly. 
I went to her and tried to comfort her, and asked her 
whether her parents had taught her the song she had 
begun to repeat. 

^ My parents,^ said she, and looked at me with sur- 
prise ; ^ my mother always scolds me. I learned it by 
listening at the door of a blind neighbor who sings it 
every evening.^ 

^ Indeed ! then will you promise me to repeat to 
yourself one verse of this hymn every day until you are 
grown up ?' She promised willingly and wept no more. 
‘ Here is the dollar which you were to have from the 
people at the window, for your song." 

The little one grasped it eagerly. ^ Thank you, 
thank you !" said she ; ‘ now I can buy mother a bed- 
spread." Then I learned that her mother was very sick, 
and had sent the child to beg a warm bed cover from 
her grandmother. 


THE GREAT WORLD. 


81 


^ Now I can buy the quilt she looked half tri- 
umphantly toward the cabin of her grandmother, who 
had just driven her off*. But she saw the old woman 
at the window, and forgetting all her resentment, held 
the dollar toward her in her uplifted hand. And this 
rejoicing — for whom was it ? for a mother who always 
scolded her. ^ Here, child," I called after her, ^ have 
you never known your father 

The girl looked timidly around as if afraid that 
some one was near, then she came close to me and 
whispered softly, ^ My father is rich and respectable, 
but I dare not call him father then added more 
softly still and hurriedly, as if she feared her own 
words, ^ It was he who threw me the dollar." 

Then thought I, ^ They are condemned already." "" 

4 * 


CHAPTER VI. 


CONSOLATION. 

The Spirit, striving, giving light, 

The heart’s deep mysteries may unroll — • 

The Father shows his awful might, 

And deep amazement fills thy soul ; 

But dost thou seek a friend to be 
Touched by thine own infirmity, 

To whom thy griefs shall not seem small 
Fie having known and tasted all — 

Then Christ the Son thy God must be. 

At ebb tide in the afternooDj they commenced their 
efforts to save the cargo. Mander and Oswald employed 
themselves in this work ; but Godber remained at the 
house^ as Idalia had declared positively that she must 
have his assistance if the party were to pass a comfort- 
able night. 

Pastor Hold had gone to the dwelling of Maria to ■ i 
offer her his congratulations on the return of her lover. k\ 
How different did he find every thing there from what ^ 
he had anticipated. Maria swimming in tears^ her i 
mother anxiously busy about her ; sometimes coaxingiy | 
consoling her, and sometimes earnestly remonstrating 
with her for her foolish and strange behavior. | 

Thank God V’ she cried, as she saw Hold, thank | 

God, pastor, that you Ve come ! I do ift know what | 


CONSOLATION. 


83 


to do with the girl. She came hounding up to my bed 
this morning with a spring as high as the ceilings cry- 
ing, Godber has come so that I, poor old woman, 
feel the shock still in every limb ; now there she sits 
ever since I came back from the shore, in the very same 
corner, crying and sobbing because she fancies that the 
strange town lady, who looks so oddly in our dress, has 
turned his head with her long locks. As if such a ship- 
wrecked chalk-face could cut the grass under the feet of 
the handsomest and cleverest girl on the whole hallig.'' 

Now she related, turning at every pause toward the 
weeping Maria, all that she had been able to learn by 
degrees from her, which indeed was not very consistent, 
and which, in her mouth, with the softening construc- 
tion put upon the conduct of Godber, failed to convince 
the pastor of his unfaithfulness. But he was so much 
surprised and grieved to find the heart, whose joy he 
had wished to lead to an ardent thanksgiving, rather 
standing in need of consolation, that he entered more 
than he otherwise would have done ^ into Maria's views. 
At the same time, he believed that his efforts to console 
her would be more successful if he made no direct at- 
tempt to oppose the current of her agitated feelings, 
and so he said to her, 

^^Even supposing, dear Maria, that your love for God- 
ber has not found in his conduct more than there really 
was in it ; that the sympathy, naturally felt for one 
whose life he had just saved, goes further than you 
could wish ; will he not, when the first lively impression 
is over, return to the faith he plighted you ? Will he 
not soon recover the affection which, as you know from 
his letters, he preserved for you through nine years of 


84 


THE HALLIG. 


absence^ altbougb certainly lie must liave seen many a 
prettier face than this young stranger's ?" 

Maria shook her head in silence. 

too/' continued the pastor, ^Hhe inclination of 
the young lady for Grodber goes for the moment some- 
what beyond the bounds of friendshij) and gratitude, 
does it follow that it is a serious passion ? Could you 
expect that having been just saved by him from the 
most imminent peril of death, she should at once re- 
press her feelings within those limits which she must 
and Vvdll hereafter observe. That bewitching language, 
that seductive manner, which has given you so much 
pain, Avill after a little consideration be changed to mere 
friendly thankfulness ; and Godber, in case you have 
judged rightly his conduct this morning, will confess 
the passing excitement like a penitent child." 

Still Maria made no reply. ^ ^ 

But why do we talk longer.?" was the conclusion of 
this attempt at consolation ; is then your faith in 
Godber's love so weak that a single moment can shake 
it ? Has not your mutual faith been plighted in the 
presence of Him who turneth the hearts of men like 
the water brooks ? And shall not that God who has 
brought him home to you after so many years of peril, 
— shall He not still further watch over jmu, and bring 
all to a happy end ? Leave your future in the hands 
of the Lord. He will do according to His own counsels 
of wisdom and goodness. Commit thy ways to Him. 
He will leave none without comfort and hope who put 
their trust in Him." 

Amen," said the mother, who had devoutly folded 
her hands ; but Maria could not respond, and only sob- 


CONSOLATION. 


85 


bed tbe louder^ till at length she broke forth in these 
words^, 

‘ He has rejected my prayer and turned away from 
my faith/^ 

Ohild^ do not blaspheme cried the mother in 
alarm ; and may God lay not this sin to her charge/" 
she prayed with uj)lifted hands^ while tears rolled down 
her furrowed cheeks. 

The pastor saw with astonishment to w^hat a passion 
Maria"s love for Godber had suddenly risen — that love 
which^ during the long separation attended by so many 
dangers to Godber^ had remained so calm. But does 
not the little meadow brook flow gently alike in sun- 
shine and storm^ and yet if you throw a stone into its 
current^ it foams up angrily. It was no time now to 
discuss whether her views were true or false ; her soul 
needed quick and powerful aid. 

He took Marians hand^ which had fallen at her side, 
and said in a serious and quiet /but impressive tone : 

Woe to the heart which denies its God, and to the 
hands which do not hold fast upon Him. But we look 
unto Jesus the Author and Finisher of our faith. He 
came to bring peace upon earth. He had not where to 
lay His head. He was despised by His enemies, be- 
trayed by His friends. He wept tears of blood in 
Gethsemane, wore the wounding crown of thorns, and 
was obedient unto death, even to the death of the 
cross. He hath finished the work. To Him come the 
weary and the heavy laden and receive peace, even His 
peace. How can we weep and complain in our sorrow 
when v/e remember His sufferings for us ? How can 
we weep and complain at our brief passing earthly lot ? 


86 


THE HALLIG. 


Have we not then received more than the world can 
take away from ns ? Have we not a share in His 
blessings, and in these are the riches of that godliness 
which is ^ profitable unto all things, having the promise 
of the life that now is and of that which is to come ?' 
But I will lift lip mine eyes from the earth toward the 
Heaven, and inquire what is man, oh, G-od ! that he 
should ask for more than Thy will, desire more than 
Thy love, which has been made manifest upon earth, 
and which having itself known the bitterest sorrow 
draws kindly near the heart, overflowing with grief, and 
says : ^ Behold me, and weep no more ; lo 1 the Heav- 
ens are opened unto you !" But those whom the cares 
and troubles of this life separate from the love of 
Christ, they crucify Him afresh and destroy their own 
souls. Therefore give Him thine heart, keep thy vow^s 
made to Him, and thou shalt not be overcome in the 
hour of sorrow, but through the trial of thy earthly 
affections, thy love to flie Saviour shall burn yet the 
more purely and brightly. ^ They that sow in tears 
shall reap in joy." "" 

And now raising Maria"s hand, still clasped in his 
owm, while she sank silently on her knees, he prayed, 

0, Lord God, Father of all who are called children 
in Heaven and on earth, here is Thine handmaid. Thy 
will be done. Amen."" 

Maria repeated the last words with a trembling voice. 
Her tears flowed more gently, her pulse beat more 
calmly. Then she rose and turning her swimming eyes 
toward Heaven, folding her hands upon her breast and 
breathing deeply as if suddenly freed from a heavy 
weight, she said once more, louder and with a stronger 


CONSOLATION. 


87 


voice, Here is Thine handmaid ! Thy will be done.'' 
She then in a firm tone gave her mother the promise 
quietly and patiently to leave every thing in the hands 
of the Lord, to live henceforth only for her, and be the 
joy of her old age. 

As the pastor withdrew, Maria and her mother 
thanked him for his consolation, only by their look, not 
with words. They were accustomed to regard the min- 
ister of the hallig as a sympathizing friend in such 
hours, and to experience in themselves the blessings of 
his spiritual office. The mother, making some excuse 
for leaving Maria within, followed the pastor to the 
door, as he turned away, and begged him, when a good 
opportunity should offer, to speak a serious word or two 
to Godber which indeed he had already resolved to do. 

On his way home. Hold asked himself why the point- 
ing to Christ had so evidently wrought uj)on the heart 
of the affiicted girl. He believed that this tranquiliz- 
ing influence did not proceed merely from a contempla- 
tion of God which lifts us into a higher sphere and 
makes the joys and sorrows of earth appear only shad- 
ows and dreams, but that the Prince of Peace, the 
Conqueror of this world must show Himself to us with 
His cross and crown of thorns. 

Man must see face to face ; and this is true not only 
of him who rejects faith as a disparagement to reason, 
but of him, too, who has -kept a child-like, obedient 
heart for the word of the eternal Father. This longing 
for sight is a necessity of our weak mortal nature which 
requires something that addresses itself to the senses, 
even when it is most earnestly striving to elevate itself 
above their domain ; as the eagle which soars toward 


THE n A L L I G . 


the sun can only in the lower and heavier regions of 
the atmosphere give his wdngs the impetus necessary to 
bear him calmly and smoothly aloft. A faith^ whicli 
proceeds not from Him whom whosoever seeth hath 
seen the Father also, will feel the want of that media- 
tion by which alone may be raised to the one eternal 
Spirit a soul for which the body is not only a necessary 
tenement, but to whose proper being and existence it 
belongs, so that even if its earthly tabernacle be dis- 
solved, it must yet again be clothed upon with that 
house which is from Heaven. Even when the mere 
common feeling of devotion raises man to the eternal 
heights, and overcoming the timid senses allows him to 
repose on the paternal bosom of the father, with as cer- 
tain a confidence as if faith had become sight, yet he 
soon loses himself again in the depths of the Godhead, 
without having found a firm resting-place, and the 
fruits of his devotion vanish in a floating confusion of 
thought and feeling. But especially is it difficult for 
him in trouble to draw sure and lasting consolation 
from Him who knows no sorrow, where he finds no 
point of sympathy for the griefs which afflict him, and 
therefore often strives in vain to let go that end of the 
chain of thought by which he is bound to suffering, and 
seize the other, endeavoring thereby to raise himself 
heavenward. In Christ, these two ends are conjoined. 
In Him the sufferer sees united a heaven of peace and 
an earth of trial. He sees the bleeding image of his 
own wounded heart, and at the same glance, he sees 
that victory which overcometh the world, that peace 
Avhich comes down from heaven and leads thither again. 
So by the hand of Christ the way to the Father is 


CONSOLATION. 


89 


made smooth. It is no sudden leap over the gulf of 
affliction^ but a gradual path out of the thorns of the 
valley^ leading to the peaceful palms upon the heights. 
As he mounts with the suffering Saviour^ he carries 
with him his own sorrow^ and he feels how near and 
sure is the healing hand that guides him. In this 
sense also is it true that ^^no one cometh to the 
Father^ except through the Son."' 

Saviour, the griefs that were thy part 
Throughout life’s thorny way, 

Encourage every wounded heart 
To find a friend in Thee. 

Saviour, thy happy victory won 
O’er every want and woe, 

O’er sorrow’s fount a light hath thrown, 

Keflecting heaven below. 

Dew from eternal realms of light, 

Tears such as earth doth weep. 

Shine pearl-like on one garland bright, 

One cup the mingled draught doth keep. 

A tomb, dark offspring of the night I 
A cross of pain and scorn — 

They lead to crowns of glory bright, 

On life’s eternal morn. 

Behold the fleshly vail is rent 1 
Transfigured are our woes ; 

The sigh may now be upward sent. 

Though born of earthly throes. 

Thanks for a mortal lot severe, 

The weary way is trod ; 

And now a friend doth gently bear 
My spirit home to God. 


\ 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 

Through sunshine and through shadow 
The path of nations leads ; 

Bondage doth nurture freedom, 

Wrong reaps its own misdeeds. 

As tr.e pastor returned to his house^ he found Man- 
der and Oswald already there. They had come^ partly 
to thank him for the interest he had shown for them^ 
and partly to see w^hether^ during their stay on the 
hallig, they were likely to enjoy the society of a single 
cultivated family. Their expectations indeed were 
small^ and the exterior and interior of the house^ in 
comparison with which that of the gardener at their 
country seat was a palace^ were not calculated to in- 
crease them. Simplicity and economy seemed to he 
stewards here. NQatness supplied the place of show^ 
tidiness that of elegance^ and convenient arrangement 
that of abundance. The dress of the pastor^s wife, as 
well as that of her child, bore the marks of her indus- 
trious needle, which knew how to make the worn fabric 
last as long as possible, and to give it new and becom- 
ing, if not fashionable, forms. The mother and the 


THE POLICY OP NATIONS. 


91 


daugliter were in the full bloom of healthy and the 
hearty welcome given to the strangers by the former 
produced upon them an agreeable impression, not 
. from her handsome face and pleasing figure only, but 
from a certain ease of manner, that indicated much 
previous intercourse with the higher circles of society. 
Oswald was quite taken by surprise. He had counted 
not a little upon gaining great credit for himself by a 
dexterous covering of the expected awkwardness, and 
by kindly condescending to the contracted ideas and the 
favorite trivial conversational topics of a family whose 
sphere of vision, as he supposed, must be very narrow. 
But he soon found that it required all his tact to sus- 
tain with equal ease his part in a conversation suited to 
the peculiar circumstances under which the acquaint- 
ance was formed. Mander, also, the polished man of 
the Avoiid, who knew how to judge and to appreciate 
such manners, he too was surprised not to find here, as 
he had expected, either helpless embarrassment, or ex- 
cessive civility. After the first greetings, he took an 
early opportunity, by an easy turn in the conversation, 
to ask the pastor's wife if she could really feel happy 
in her present position ? That is a home question," 
said she, smiling. Women are in some respects more 
dependent upon outward circumstances than men. The 
23laces where we grow up, the playmates of our youth, 
the social circle in which we rejoiced with those who 
rejoiced, and wept with those who wept, the customs, 
the forms of early life, remain fixed in our memories, 
and maintain longer their infiuence over our inclinations, 
wishes, and hopes, than is usual with man whose calling 
and profession is his world, in which all his thoughts, 


92 


THE H A L L I G . 


wishes^ and acts are centered, so that his recollections of 
the past are weakened, and his dreams of the future 
less vivid/" 

I suppose your situation here is less agreeable to 
you than to your husband 

I have,"" replied she, only spoken of one side of 
woman"s heart ; the other will speak more for my con- 
tentment. Our humble sex seems designed for man. 
We attach ourselves to him ; him we follow ; the wife 
will leave father and mother and cleave to her husband. 
Why then not sacrifice to him her former tastes, her 
favorite habits, as well ? Indeed this is most easy by 
the side of a beloved husband. The past and the 
future pale before the rosy glow of the j)resent, even if 
this does not extend beyond the four walls of the house, 
or if it only beams from the eyes of the husband. It 
still finds an entrance into the open heart, and exerts its 
transfiguring power upon every thing around. Domestic 
hapj)iness subdues even a ^ hallig" with all its priva- 
tions and self-denial."" 

But,"" said Oswald, it is inconceivable to me how 
the pastor himself can be contented here, since during 
the years of his professional study he must have been 
familiar with a life of activity and excitement.’" 

Hot only has he spent a portion of his student life 
in Germany, and further improved himself by traveling 
through the most interesting parts of our Fatherland 
and of Switzerland, but also in his childhood and early 
youth, he lived in the full enjoyment of every thing 
that town habits and town luxuries can furnish."" 

Perhaps he has learned to forget his present priva- 
tions by occupying himself in learned research,"" said 


93 


% 

THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 

Mander, casting at the same time a glance at the small 
collection of hooks. 

You think so/" said the lady^ smiling, because you 
see the titles of Arabic and Persian books. No ; these 
belong to a period of Hold"s life when, he says, the 
grandmothers farthingale was as pleasing in his eyes as 
the fragrant garlands on the heads of the grandchil- 
dren, or when the dried plants or fruits of distant coun- 
tries tasted better than the fresh plum of the homestead 
garden. If it were not for me, the dust would settle 
on the gilt lettering of many of them ; only a few 
can boast of retaining the freshness of his early 
affection."" 

Naturally,"" said Mander, ^^the present rapid ad- 
vancement of scientific knowledge obliges the educated 
man to leave his favorite pursuit somewhat in the back- 
ground ; and little as I am acquainted with theological 
studies, I know that the divine who desires to keep up 
in some degree with the progress of ecclesiastical learn- 
ing, will have reading enough."" 

^^If,"" replied the wife, in a tone which betrayed the 
fear of saying more than was proper for the ears of 
strangers — if the minister had any means of supplying 
his intellectual wants. Hold often laments this, and 
said the other day tliat a quarters salary of an ordinary 
opera-singer, or ballet-dancer, would be sufficient to 
supply all the clergymen of the hallig, who are cut off 
from book markets and all social intercourse, with such 
journals and other publications of the day as would 
enable them to keep pace with the literature of their 
profession. Then there was the daily school teaching, 
w^hich from the low standard of education on the hallig, 


94 


THE IIALLia. 


and the total want of all co-operation on the part of 
the parents^ was limited to the merest rudiments/" 

What exclaimed Mangier and Oswald, in aston- 
ishment ; is the pastor then condemned to teach the 
alphabet and prepare copy-books 

^Mf you call this condemnation, I can"t object to it. 
It often wounds me to the soul when I hear in the next 
room the monotonous spelling, and cast a glance at these 
books. But Hold knows very well how to accommodate 
himself to it, and goes just as cheerfully into the school- 
room as he comes out of it. On each of the halligs 
the office of school-master is combined with that of 
pastor."" 

But I would have an assistant,"" said Oswald, some- 
what thoughtlessly. 

The same reasons,"" replied the lady, as her eyes 
fell, and her face colored slightly, which have made it 
necessary to unite the two offices, spare us the trouble 
of thinking about an assistant."" 

The arrival of the husband now relieved the wife 
from a conversation which was becoming somewhat 
painful to her, as women are less inclined than men to 
expose to strangers their straitened circumstances, and 
try as long as possible to keep up appearances. 

Hold met his visitors with cordial frankness, and 
skilfully interrupted theh thanks for his exertions to 
make them comfortable on the island, by saying that 
he was much more indebted to them for coming here to 
tell him a little something of the world without. 

While their hostess now prepared the tea with the 
black bread and butter, which is all that the inhabitant 
of the hallig has to offer his guests on such occasions, 


THE POLICY OP NATIONS. 


95 


and which generally serves both him and his family 
even for dinner^ the gentlemen -had in their rapid dis- 
course already flown over the earthy run through the 
intricate paths of politics, touched the lofty heights of 
speculation, and were now diving into the depths of 
science. But they nowhere agreed upon any thing ; 
neither could contrive to form a harmony for the key 
note struck by the other. If Oswald wished to dispose 
lightly of a question, Mander and Hold showed him its 
serious side, and the decisive influence of a proper an- 
swer upon the happiness or misery of mankind. If 
Mander praised the acuteness of mind which men had 
already shown in solving the great questions of life, 
Hold brought experience to prove how little these solu- 
tions had profited.. 

But politics is now what theology was formerly, the 
j)rovince where mind loves to wrestle with mind, the 
common ground to which scarce any one is a stranger, 
which assembles with equal rights of speech around its 
council fires those most differing in rank and race, and 
at the same time is for the keen observer a Diet, where 
men's hearts reveal themselves, and betray mutual sym- 
pathies, that reach beyond the brawls of journals and 
of parties ; and therefore our friends were constantly 
brought back again to this general starting-point. 

Hold said, as he perceived this : 

It is a miserable age which furnishes no common 
material for conversation beyond circumscribed individ- 
ual interests. It breeds a narrowness of spirit, a trivial 
meiim and tuiim life, a wretched prosaic utilitarian- 
ism. Above our every day occupations, above our dig- 
ging and delving, each in his own little sphere, a realm 


96 


THE IIALLia. 


must be opened which admits all without requiring 
passport or other qualifications^ and which affords 
abundant room for the exercise of thought, and en- 
larges the sensibilities by a contemplation of the weal 
and woe of multitudes. For this reason I do not en- 
tirely discard as mere loss of time these political dis- 
cussions which have become so universal, and into 
which we fall so unintentionally ; although politics, as 
now taught and practiced by one state toward another, 
seems to me only a monstrous deformity."^ 

How,'' exclaimed Mander full of astonishment, 
must you not respect the statesman who weighs in 
his mind the destinies of nations and countries, knows 
how to combine the past, the present, and the future, 
and often achieves more with a single, stroke of his pen 
than the most victorious armies, who guides the ship 
of state through the rocks in the darkest storm, and by 
a thousand windings brings her safe to port 

^^For aught I know," said Hold, ^^lis wisdom may 
be very admirable, but when I see that it is just his in- 
trigues wdiich have called forth the storm and conjured 
up the rocks ; when I see him digging an abyss at his 
own feet, while he self-complacently boasts of his deep 
insight into the future ; when I see him playing with 
truth and fixith, with the sacredness of treaties, xvith 
the laws of eternal right, as with empty shells, which 
he throws away when the nutritious kernel has been 
taken out, and perhaps picks up again to press out the 
last remaining drop of oil ; wlien he bows one knee, 
and prays with open mouth to God and all the saints 
for the maintenance of his own righteous cause and the 
punishment of treachery, while at the same time he 


THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 97 

raises the other foot to tread justice into the dust, then 
the statesman, or rather the politics which he repre- 
sents, becomes very repulsive to me” 

But you certainly would not carry tlie laws of pri- 
vate morality, which are important enough in our do- 
mestic and social relations, into the management of 
state affairs ?” 

Certainly I would,^^ replied Hold, with much 
warmth. Justice and truth are no inventions of man, 
to he distorted and perverted at his pleasure. They 
are the commands of the living God, who guides the 
world by the counsels of His wisdom, and judges the 
nations of the earth with justice. The idea that be- 
cause I can overlook the miniature history of one li-ttle 
point on this sand-grain of a world, and am to guide it 
for a few Seconds, that, therefore, I am raised above the 
laws of the Creator and the eternal Euler of Heaven 
and earth — this thought is so jiitiable, that one could 
only smile at it, if it were hot at the same time so con- 
temptibly profane. Indeed, so long as the cold- 
blooded wisdom of the directors of the state refuses to 
recognize the law of God as the only true guide, so 
long must this remain a machine dripping with blood 
and tears, going now forward, now backward, in its con-, 
fusion, and bringing only disgrace uj)on its architect. 
By their fruits ye shall know them. What then is 
Europe ? An eternal playground for an iron game of 
dice, a mighty church-yard ever open to receive its 
murdered millions. Every state has its great national 
debt, and is only safe from bankruptcy by a change of 
creditors. Everyvdiere there is a shaking and trem- 
bling of the people and their rulers, lest the engine, so 

5 


98 


THE HALLIG. 


fortunately brought to a stand-stilly should again be set 
in motion ; and to maintain this anxious quiety great 
standing armies must be kept always ready for conflict 
even during the boasted peacey the master-stroke of 
diplomacy/" 

But you do not lay the blame of these circum- 
stances upon statesmen 

By no meanSy but upon the falsey ambiguouSy un- 
just goddess whom they worship. Can you believe that 
the condition of Europe would be worsey if the diplo- 
matistSy instead of making morality the last consider- 
ationy had followed her laws as the sovereign rule in all 
relations of states with each other 

^^Buty"" interposed Oswaldy ^^the balance of power 
must be preserved. A dominant power would produce 
a one-sidedness in the intellectual tendencies of EuropCy 
fetter the free development of national peculiaritieSy 
and degrade other rulers to mere subjects of one all- 
powerful will. And the object of politics iSy after all, 
merely to preserve this necessary balance."" 

So far as concerns nations, we know from history, 
that every state, which has extended itself beyond its 
natural bounds, is drawing near its fall, without any 
assistance from foreign diplomacy, but only through 
the false policy which dictated its extension. You 
know that this boasted balance, always to be contended 
for anew and at so much sacriflee, is, after all, but a 
dream of the imagination, or at best an uncertain 
equilibrium among the greater powers, while the lesser 
ones, like reeds blown by every wind, lean now to this 
side, now to that, and often are cut into fragments to 
preserve the poise of the scales. The princes of these 


THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 


99 


states well understand this^ and would gdadly keep 
themselves and their lands aloof from these conflicts, 
in which the right of the stronger is the only law, and 
the sacredness of treaties only respected when main- 
tained at the point of a hundred thousand bayonets. 
But this balance would never sufler or have suffered 
such disturbances if the ambitious projects of aggress- 
ive states were not facilitated by the diplomatic policy 
of opposing nations. If a successful opposition is com- 
menced against such an aggressor, then comes diplomacy 
with her eyes askance, and points out, with far-sighted 
cunning, how easily an ally may win too much by the 
common victory, but does not look at that which lies so 
near, the advantage which the common enemy is to 
draw from their mutual distrust, until it is too late. Is 
not this the history of almost every war for the main- 
tenance of the balance of power during the last hun- 
dred years ?” 

To convince you of the contrary,"" replied Oswald, 

I need only remind you of the last war against Na- 
poleon, in which my father took a part."" 

That very struggle argues for me,"" continued Hold. 

It was, for oppressed princes and people, a moment of 
inspiration which elevated them above the intrigues of 
diplomatic policy. If this war had been carried on 
with the same cold watchful calculation, with the same 
one-sided political views as the preceding ones against 
that great conqueror, what would have been the result ? 
But whatever of magnanimity was at this time added to 
the sagacity of statesmen, it arose only from the ex- 
citement of the storm of counter-revolution, which was 
shaking thrones, altars, and cabins ; it was no part of 


100 


THE HALLIG. 


tlieir nature. Because the arch hypocrite was driven to 
prayer in the hour of extremest need^ does it follow 
that she ceased to he a hypocrite ? And was she not 
during that very prayer in which she called upon the 
justice of God, plotting new wrongs ? Was she not 
at the same time preparing her folded hands to snatch 
some new prey, and to sow upon the field of victory the 
dragon's teeth of fresh discord ?" 

You may he right there," replied Mander, but, at 
the same time, you will acknowledge that by a firm ad- 
herence to the principles of morality, many a state 
would have insured its own destruction, and has escaped 
from it only by adopting a dexterous policy, which ac- 
commodated itself to the circumstances and conditions 
of the crisis." 

Very true ; but this is the cause, the evil has gone 
so far that the devil can only be cast out through Beel- 
zebub the prince of devils, that we are compelled to 
take the unworthy weapons of our adversary into our 
own hands. But do not forget, that in spite of its po- 
litical arts, perhaps even through their very means, 
many a state has fallen to ruin, and that we have only 
before us the history of countries as it has been mod- 
ified by this policy, and therefore can not affirm that 
the continued existence of an independent state .is 
without the range of possibility, were its rulers al- 
ways to keep in view and observe in their management 
at home and abroad only the strictest justice and the 
most conscientious faith." 

I would not advise any government to try the ex- 
periment," said Oswald, until all the others shall agree 


THE POLICY OE NATIONS. 


101 


to the same principles ; and I think it will never come 
to that/" 

And why may it not come to that asked Hold. 

Whatever is true and right has its root in Heaven, 
and its blooming boughs reach down to earth, there to 
scatter their good seed. If then the good seed finds 
on this stony ground no depth of earth on which to 
spring up, or lies drying in the sand of the desert, the 
same Heaven has dew and sunshine wherewith to pre- 
pare the soil by degrees, and make it capable of receiv- 
ing the good seed. Out of all this wrong and confusion 
may a kingdom of righteousness, joy, and peace, arise, 
whose happy citizen shall never suspect with what 
blood the soil on which he treads is enriched ; with 
what disappointment those resting in the grave strove 
for a peace which was before them, but- which they 
could not see ; with what madness they had laid down 
two sets of principles ; one for the individual man, 
^Thou shalt love the Lord thy Grod with all thy heart, 
and thy neighbor as thyself," and the other for a body 
composed of the same individuals, and called a State, 
^ Thou shalt love or hate according to every shifting 
wind, and overreach thy neighbor wherever thou 
canst.""" 

Such a kingdom of peace upon earth must ever re- 
main,"" said Mander, smiling, ^^only the beautiful dream 
of a gentle heart ; and even if it were possible, it would 
not further the development of mankind, in whom con- 
flict must excite to activity and exertion, must steel the 
nerves and sharpen the intellect. History must be an 
epic ; it can never become an idyl. Everywhere in 
creation we find the same struggle. What changing 


102 


THE HALLia. 


phases indicative of frightful revolutions do astronomers 
observe in the heavenly bodies ! What earthquakes, 
floods, and volcanic fires ! what periods of drought ! 
what torrents from the bursting clouds, belong to the 
history of the earth ! What a ceaseless warfare among 
animals ! how the law of the stronger prevails ! what 
plundering and slaughter of the weaker 

And would you,"" objected Hold, compare man to 
these — man who is made in the image of his Maker ; to 
whom He gave the power of using the experience of past 
ages for the benefit of the present ? to whom He gave 
his holy commandments, which have for their object 
not only his well being upon earth, but his eternal sal- 
vation ? to whom He has manifested here below the 
brightness of his glory, in the person of Jesus Christ — 
a glory which is justice and love, power and peace ?’" 

Was not Christ also obliged to suffer, to contend 
and die ? and have not new causes of difference sprung 
up through His coming ?"" 

And are we therefore to continue forever his mur- 
derers by rejecting his teachings, his blessings, and his 
promises ? Shall we set him up as our private and 
social household Deity, and at the same time worship, 
as the God of nations, him who was a murderer from 
the beginning ? No ; as certainly as, setting aside 
Christ who is above all comparisons, the apostle who 
proclaimed the Gospel to all the world, brought 
greater blessings to the children of men than all those 
who have preceded or followed, so certainly will the 
Gospel extend to every hill and valley ; and then first 
shall be seen true activity among men, an activity 
which expends itself not in fightings, but in love ; then 


THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 


103 


will many a name now highly praised in history, whose 
fame is built on blackened ruins and moldering skele- 
tons, only fill as a monument of human folly a small 
unenviable space in the book of the past, while they 
shall diligently inquire after the deeds of him who has 
helped to lay a foundation-stone for the better time/' 

And still the most apparently destructive wars," re- 
marked Oswald, have contributed essentially to the 
progress of mankind." 

Because there is a God in heaven who watches and 
directs them. The tempest clears the atmosphere, and 
is succeeded by a day of sunshine. But this fair day 
must have its origin above the tempest and the clouds ; 
the storms do not create it ; they only discharge their 
baleful weapons, and dispel the vapors from which they 
themselves are born." 

The pastor's wife, who feared that her husband was 
growing somewhat heated, now interrupted him by say- 
ing with a smile, The vapors of my tea-kettle have 
had plenty of time to gather themselves into a thunder- 
cloud, if they were not of a peaceable nature." 

Mander, however, after a short pause recommenced 
their earnest conversation. The experiences of an 
eventful life had gifted him with that cautious judg- 
ment which confines itself within the bounds of the 
actual, and ventures no glance beyond the visible point 
of departure. Yet he was pleased to listen to a man 
who, in a position so narrow, and so barren of bright 
and cheerful hopes for himself, was still dreaming of an 
ideal for humanity ; and therefore he had purposely 
made objections so far as was necessary to keep up the 
excitement on the part of Hold. But by this means 


104 


THE HALLIG. 


many a sentiment slumbering in his own lieart seemed 
inclined to re-awake. 

I can well understand that from your education as 
a popular teacher, and your position as such, you should 
feel the greatest interest in men of science.^^ 

There is only one science,^^ replied Hold, ^^the 
source of true light in time and eternity, the knowl- 
edge of the way of salvation for men. By its light and 
laws must every thing be determined, that which is, 
and that which is done ; and other science and knowl- 
edge has worth and durability only so far as it ad- 
vances us and others in the consciousness of our de- 
pendence upon God in a holy desire to do his will, in 
a cheerful reliance upon his wisdom, in a word, in a 
perfect filial relation to him. So our willing and doing 
bears a living gem and abiding fruits in itself so far as 
it aids that knowledge to manifest itself in our indi- 
vidual life and that of humanity.'" 

According to this view, all sciences have but one 
and the same problem to solve, though they issue from 
so many different points, take such different directions, 
and often seem to conflict with each other." 

^^Let me use a figure," was Hold's reply. ^^This 
one knowledge is the sun in the heaven of humanity, 
the other strivings of curiosity are only the bearers of 
the rays of this sun on every side and into every obscur- 
ity. If these forget their offlce and go about with 
their own farthing candles, they will lose themselves in 
the desert and wander into a thousand by-paths. But 
they will more perfectly develop their knowledge, 
more clearly arrange it, and more firmly establish it, 
ripening in the consciousness of their own true vocation 


THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 


105 


by a constant reference of all science to the one source 
of true knowledge. The more thoroughly the paths of 
error are explored^ the more readily they may be re- 
tracedj and then they may serve as guides to the right 
way/^ 

You are a theologian^ and to every man his own 
profession stands first."^ 

Theology is not the science that I mean : she is 
only the guide to it. When she has once understood 
herself, she makes it her duty to bring all that has 
been, all that is, under the focus of Divine wisdom, 
where the pure metal is se23arated from the dross, and in 
this sense should every man be a theologian, so far as 
to allow every thought, desire, and act, every labor and 
every experience of his life, all his aspirations and all his 
hopes,to be enlightened and purified by that true wis- 
dom which comes from God and leads to him. The 
theologian is not only to try the springs of his* own ac- 
tion, but the struggles and experiences, the opinions 
and hopes of all times and all nations by the light of Di- 
vine wisdom, and thereby he learns to judge with clear- 
ness and accuracy of the doings of his own time, seeing 
beyond the mere surface and discovering the sources of 
the errors and godlessness of mankind, as well as of the 
individual. Thereby he becomes fitted to be a leader 
of the blind, a teacher of the unskillful, an admonisher 
of the thoughtless, a strengthener of the weak in faith, 
an awakener of the lukewarm and the careless,, a pro- 
claimer of judgment against those who despise salva- 
tion themselves, and hinder such as would accept it. 
And because through our weakness and sinfulness we 
all belong sometimes to the one class, and sometimes to 
5 ^^ 


106 


THE IIALLIG. 


the other, so should no one, whether he he priest or 
layman, fail to labor in building up this true knowledge 
for himself, or neglect the opportunity to ripen in wis- 
dom, virtue, and godliness/' 

^^But where," inquired Mander, ^‘is this true wisdom 
to be found, to which we should refer all things, and 
by which we should prove all things ?" 

It is not, and can not be," replied Hold, where 
error and delusion are, to say the least, always possible 
— in any system of philosophy. It can only be drawn 
from the fountain of truth itself." 

^^I might answer," said Mander, not without be- 
traying a painful emotion, “ with the question of Pilate, 
What is truth 

The word of God," said Hold, firmly, and solemn- 
ly. But a slight shake of the head on the part of 
Mander, and an almost contemptuous smile from his 
son, showed him how unsatisfactory his answer had 
been to his listeners. 

Oswald now reminded his father that it was already 
late, and the guests departed with the welcome prom- 
ise to repeat the visit soon. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


CONSCIENCE. 

Dost murmur that ’twixt thee and truth 
Dark shadows intervene ? 

’T was thine own heart that gave them birth I 
Wages and fruit of sin. 

Idalia thought she had never been so happy in her 
whole life as she now found herself. The domestic oc- 
cupations to which she devoted Herself with much zeal^ 
perhaps the more from being unaccustomed to them^ 
had a greater charm, even a fascination for her, from 
the singularity of her situation and the circumstances 
of her stay on the island. Love had called forth in 
her bosom, where once there was only room for the 
thoughtlessness of a vain girl, the idea of true woman- 
hood and a conception of the dignity of a matron. At 
the same time she knew that in this very way she most 
pleased him by whom she desired to be loved. She did 
'not make use of all the means which her father^s 
wealth afforded to provide those comforts and conven- 
iences which were in accordance with her social posi- 
tion, and which otherwise were not attainable on the 
hallig, but she conformed at once to the simplicity and 
frugality of her present home, and made a thousand 


108 


THE HALLIG. 


proposals, frequently quite impracticable, to clothe 
every thing in a still more idyllic form. She bordered 
the margin of the sodded cistern in which the rain- 
water was collected with a broad wreath of sea-shells, 
that she had been obliged to seek with much pains 
along the beach, as the ocean is here miserly even of 
these. True, the drinking water for the unaccustomed 
palates of the strangers, must be brought from the 
main land. To supply the place of a snug, shady 
arbor, she had, with Grodber's help, erected a tent of 
sailcloth on the wharf, and when the weather permitted 
they drank their coffee under its shelter. She had 
many a dispute with her brother, in which she main- 
tained the superiority of a life on this island to all the 
magnificence of a great town, and whenever she play- 
fully praised very highly some little peculiarity of their 
hallig life, Godber felt himself more and more closely 
drawn toward her, and resigned himself to the brightest 
dreams of a golden future. The love of his home was 
so woven into his innermost being, that whatever Idalia 
said on the subject seemed to him only a natural ac- 
knowledgment of the truth, and a proof of the union 
of their souls, and with every word of approbation 
from her lips, his love for her increased, a love which 
was equaled only by his affection for his birth-place, 
and which outweighed every other thought and feeling. 
The remembrance of Maria fell more and more into the 
back-ground, and even if there came moments which 
exhorted to faith and truth, Godber practiced the art 
of holding dialogues with his own conscience, until at 
length she gave him her approbation. How could he 
help it, if he had now first found the star which was 


CONSCIENCE. 


109 


destined to light him through his earthly journey ? If 
he had now first learned to know himself hy intercourse 
with a being in whom his thoughts and feelings were 
reflected as in a transfiguring mirror^ so that he was 
thereby inspired and elevated to a height before un- 
dreamed of ? He was shocked at the thought of the 
low sphere in which his mind and heart must have 
remained^ if Idaha's magic wand had not touched the 
very depths of his soul, if he had spent his days with 
the insignificant Maria. 

So was it with him, and so is it with all. Vanity, 
which in the most various forms and shapes, with the 
most diversified turns and disguises, mingles in our 
self-examinations, throws a false light over every thing, 
and blinds our clear judgment of the true relations in 
which Ave stand, and of the plain demands of right and 
duty. For this reason, it is necessary that man should 
hold fast to the firm prophetic word. When he arrives 
at a point where he sees diverging ways, he must neither 
blindly obey external influences, nor seek to find the 
right path by self-reliant investigation. By such spec- 
ulations every evil passion is aAvakened in him, as error 
selects these cross-ways for the orgies of his nocturnal 
demons. Sensuality, selfishness, and vanity strive to 
lead his judgment astray, and Avitli the best will in the 
Avorld, his examination will never result in a fair esti- 
mate of what may be said on both sides. He should 
rather, in such cases, surrender his reason, which, through 
the awakening of those evil impulses, is prevented from 
rendering a truthful testimony to the guidance of his 
faith. He should ask what is the Lord’s will here ? 
and not seek the answer in himself, as if his own heart 


no 


.THE 11 A Lr L I a . 


were a dwelling-place of the Holy Spirit, since if that 
were so it would not have been necessary to put the 
question, but he must seek the answer in the commands 
of God, as they are given him in the pure and clear 
revelation of the Divine law. Such a law, standing 
there in its firm decisiveness, in its simple grandeur, 
leaving no room for perversion or casuistry, however 
much men may turn and twist it, tolerates no addition 
and no subtraction without being changed entirely and 
made to contradict itself, and such a command without 
exception, such a guide pointing only in a single direc- 
tion, such a positive yes or no, must decide without 
compromise. Without such a stronghold of law it 
comes to this, and it has already come to this, that 
every man has his own system of morality, and that this 
morality is a’ Janus head with two faces, and eyes which 
regard as gray to-morrow what they held to be green 
to-day. If you appeal to the voice of conscience, this 
is nothing else, if indeed it deserve the name you have 
given it, than a stream of living water from the rock 
of the law, and if it is not that, there is less confidence 
to be placed in it than in a weathercock, which at least 
has the advantage of pointing out the direction from 
which the wind blows. The clear, pure, revealed word of 
God, which is not to be made or modeled according to 
circumstances, should be for thee, in all thy willing 
and doing, an immovable Sinai. At the sound of his 
voice through the clonds, let all other voices be hushed, 
and however flatteringly they may whisper around you 
in the very tones of truth, still they are false just in 
proportion as they differ more or less from the plain 
open sense of the law. Do you think of consequences ? 


CONSCIENCE. 


Ill 


a smiling sunshine beckons to you, if for once you will 
not interpret the commands of God so narrowly and 
strictly, or will clothe it in the form of a more agreeable 
truth. On the other hand, heavy clouds hang around 
thy path, and prepare to discharge their hail-stones 
and lightning upon thee and thine, upon the harvest 
of those nearest thee, if without trembling and hes- 
itation thou still remainest steadfast to the letter of the 
law. Eemain steadfast unto death, that thou mayst 
win life. Thou shalt so counsel thine immortal soul, 
that she may be able to stand before the Judge of the 
quick and the dead. Let him care for the conse- 
quences. They are in his hands, the hands of an al- 
mighty God, of a merciful Father. They are not thy 
concern. But it is thine to be found faithful. Let this 
suffice thee, even if experience did not show how often 
our calculations of consequences prove erroneous, how 
the day brings forth night and night the day. Still 
must all things, be they j)overty or riches, success or 
misfortune, life or death, work together for good to him 
who can say Here am I, Lord ; Thy word is a lamp to 
my path."' 

Whence comes then all this pitiful worldliness among 
so called good men Whence among them those 
many innocent weaknesses," those nice shrinking 
evasions when God requires a new burnt-offering on 
the altar of truth. Because they have made their vir- 
tue for themselves, that like a convenient and pleasant 
pillow they may shift it now to this side, now to that, 
to prop their earthly slumbers. Because they have 
planted a shady park in the desert at the foot of Sinai, 
which conceals the mountain from their sight, while 


112 


THE II A L L I G . 


they wander up and down through blooming paths, 
satisfied if they do not stray so far that their com- 
panions in the park can no longer recognize them as 
their fellows. Verily this generation require th the burn- 
ing mirror of the law, to consume to ashes the tares 
which they call good seed, but which can not even hide 
the naked soil. 

It accords indeed ill with the so called enlighten- 
ment of our time to bind one's self to such a fixed 
letter. No, we would rather be a law unto ourselves, 
and we talk much of the law written in our hearts, by 
which, if we will confess the truth, we mean a soft 
waxen tablet, upon which outward impressions sketch a 
variety of figures, and from which we select as an oracle 
the one most in accordance with our own inclinations, 
and then follow it as a Divine decree. In this way have 
we found it so easy to be very good and moral men, be- 
cause whenever by fortunate circumstances, by educa- 
tion, by a certain shrinking from the judgment of the 
world, our inclinations are kept in a kind of calm, which 
does not allow a wild outbreak of the passions, and so 
we are saved from being called thieves and murderers, 
a little pride, love of the world, scandal, revenge, de- 
ceit, and even some worse vices, may very well go along 
with this respectability. 

Such is a worldly life ; there is no judge in our hearts 
who examines closely ; there is no law there, which, 
sharper than a two-edged sword, divides between God 
and the world, right and wrong, virtue and vice. As in 
lukewarm water, heat and cold are mingled, so in our 
self-created law, are light and darkness combined into a 
hazy mist which does not dazzle the sight. As the ser- 


CONSCIENCE. 


113 


pent line leads now right, now left ; and when it in- 
clines to one side is already preparing for a turn in the 
other direction ; so is this course of ours never a direct 
progress in the path of life ; nor does it entirely lose 
itself in the way to death. Truly when the day dawns 
in which God shall judge the nations of the earth; 
when he demands an account for every idle word that 
has proceeded from our mouths ; when these words are 
thundered from his throne, ^^Be ye holy for I am holy,"" 
then will the soft wax of our law melt before the flam- 
ing light of his commandments ; then indeed will our 
compromising middle path be evidently the way of the 
flesh and of destruction, which in its windings some- 
times borders too closely on the path of life to sanction 
the excuse that what the Lord our God required had 
been hidden from us. The mistaken idea of conscience, 
as this word is generally understood, must be given up 
before true virtue can be thine. . And in truth consci- 
ence is but a fable, and that with a very bad moral, 
whenever, as with most men, it is nothing more than a 
mixture of worldly wisdom, care for a good name, re- 
spect for station, compounded with a portion of natural 
amiability, which might as well be called weakness of 
character, and a partial knowledge of the Divine will, 
which, hoAvever, can not combine with the other in- 
gredients ; it therefore seems to serve as lees that, when 
the conscience is once agitated, float about without hav- 
ing any affinity for the rest. True conscience is no law- 
giver, but only an eye open to the given law. It does 
not inquire how a thing should be decided, but points 
out how it has been decided by him who has said. 
Thou shalt, and thou shalt not."" It reserves to itself 


114 


THE HALLIG. 


no right of judgment in reference to circumstances^ but 
simply declares the judgment of God in the case pre- 
sented. In this way alone does it preserve its freedom 
against the assaults of evil inclinations and desires, that 
it derives its light and power from a height to which 
these can not attain. But if it seek itself to find the 
way in which we should walk, then it falls into bondage, 
is perhaps a proud but a willing servant of evil spirits 
and worldly desires, and wears the livery of his lords. 
Conscience has need of a fixed pole, the stand-point of 
Archimedes, to plant the lever wherewith it may move 
the world. It has not its light within itself, but requires, 
even as the natural eye, light from without to enable it 
to see. Are then the intellectual and the spiritual so 
divided and distinct in man, that each may keep itself 
entirely free from the action and infiuence of the other ? 
Can the one act and choose for itself without any har- 
mony with the other ? Then, while the heart shrinks 
from a sacrifice that virtue requires ; while sensuousn^s, 
evil inclinations, and worldly wisdom, selfishly advise to 
choose the broad road, is conscience, without any guide 
except these impulses, likely to act independently of the 
common brotherhood ? Will it not very soon join in 
the seductive song of the sirens, or at least, will not its 
protesting discord be drowned, unless aid from without 
be afforded it ? When long habit makes us thought- 
less and indifferent about the way in which we walk ; 
when the paths which w^e are treading have become so 
natural and so convenient to our feet that we no longer 
think of choosing others, has not then the conscience 
fallen into the same habit ? Will it watch while thou 
sleepest ? Will it stand while thou art going forward ? 


CONSCIEKCE. 


115 


Will it see when thou art blind ? Will it speak, ad- 
monish, punish, otherwise than thou wiliest, as if it were 
no part of thee, and that, when thou pointest only to 
thyself as the fountain from which it is to draw its wis- 
dom ? To expect this, is to ask that thou shouldst 
contradict and vanquish thyself, shouldst demand light 
from darkness, strength from weakness, and an answer 
from the question. There must be something without, 
at which we may gaze as at a fixed polar star, a light 
that is raised above the misty clouds of this world ; not 
a sign of our own painting to indicate what we believe 
to be the right road, but one set up by Him whose word 
is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path."^ The 
holy will of the Father of light must be made known 
to us. Otherwise we live as in a land of revolution, 
where the old government is abolished and a new one 
not yet re-established ; where every one consults his 
own views and inclinations as to what he shall do, or 
omit to do ; where one becomes a murderer with the 
best conscience, and another with an equally good 
one takes the booty to himself. It is not because men 
act without conscience, that the pile of the martyrs is 
kindled, and the guillotine erected ; but because they 
have forgotten the commandment of God, Thou shalt 
not kill V’ and have made their own opinions and wishes 
the law of conscience. He does not live against his 
conscience, to whom the gratification of earthly desires, 
activity in temporal affairs, and the pleasant enjoyment 
of worldly peace, are every thing ; to whom the heavens 
are never opened by a look of devotion, whose heart is 
never moved by an inquiry after Divine things, the sanc- 
tification of whose heart and conduct does not lie before 


116 


THE HALLia. 


him as the great business of life. On the contrary^ he 
does not feel within himself any protest against such a 
state of being, because he has never learned, or has for- 
gotten how to examine his own life in the mirror of 
God's law ; and besides, he has his points of honor 
which his conscience will not allow him to disregard. 
The voice which perhaps sometimes reaches him, as 
from a higher world, is but an echo of the Divine law 
which he once knew, or a note of the same called forth 
by one of God's providences. But conscience, in its 
truth and purity, is neither more nor less than a reflec- 
tion of the glory of the Divine law. It is a mirror in 
which we may perceive the will of the Eternal, if we 
will hold this will before it. But if we place before it 
only our own image, then sliall we see in it also only 
the likeness of ourselves ; and our desires and acts will 
be but a repetition of that image, not the willing and 
doing of that which the Lord our God requires of us. 
The pilgrim who has no point before him which he is 
striving to reach, no guide as to how or where he should 
go, is governed by the vigor or the weariness of his 
limbs, by the pleasantness or the difficulties of the road, 
by the sunshine or the showers of the day. So it is 
with the pilgrimage of life, without a law from without. 
But where this law shines before us as the supreme will 
of the J udge of the living and the dead, then no delay 
and no hesitation avail, no fear and no favor, no life and 
no death, nothing is considered but the stern, unyield- 
ing word that permits no distorting, no interpreting 
away, no pretext or excuse, recognizes no seduction or 
temptation, but demands obetlicnce — obedience alone. 
Without such a word of discqfline and power, that is 


CONSCIENCE. 


117 


raised above our wisdom and above our censure^ we shall 
never overcome sin, never walk in righteousness and 
holiness. Therefore, should the conscience be only an 
examiner and weigher of this word ; and if a thousand 
voices cry out against it ; if the whole world utter forth 
its anathemas ; if the afiections of thy heart entreat 
against it ; or if the last throb of thy earthly happiness 
be at stake, the last hope of thy temporal being — let 
them perish ; thou hast but one law, the law of the 
Lord ; and be thou steadfast therein unto the end. 
The kingdom of God shall remain to thee. 

Godber had been brought up in the fear of the Lord 
and in the discipline of His commandments. It was 
not, therefore, so easy for him to force his conscience, 
which still stood with one foot firmly planted on the 
everlasting rock, into accordance with his present views. 
Even when he thought it was satisfied to go on quietly 
with him in the way which he tried to believe destiny 
had marked out for him, it would suddenly turn aside 
and remain obstinately fixed on these precepts : Be ye 
not carried about by every wind, follow not every new 
path like the unstable of heart, but be ye steadfast in 
your mind and of one manner of speech. But we are 
never more crafty and dexterous than when the object 
is to deceive ourselves, and Godber tried every art to 
transform the tables of the law into wax, and to tame 
his restive conscience. But the Lord from on high 
would show him how vain such arts were, and how idle 
it was to endeavor to subject by such means a con- 
science which had been accustomed to other guidance. 
God spoke by the mouth of the dead, and before the 
door of that paradise into which Godber thought him- 
self about to enter, stepped an angel with a flaming sword. 


The hour will come at God’s own bidding 
When the sense-blinded soul shall wake ; 

On the dark page she now is hiding 
Shall a clear flash of sunlight break. 

The cor23ses of those who had perished with the ship 
were found. Godber had observed upon the old church 
mound a stone in the form of a large baptismal font, 
and had gone thither at Idalia's request to see whether 
it might not in some way be made to contribute to the 
decoration of their own wharf. There lay before him 
the corpse of his cajotain, and afterward were found not 
far from it, still faithful in death, the bodies of the two 
sailors. After having been long the sport of the waves, 
they had at length found a resting-place together in 
the old church-yard, which, though now well-nigh a 
prey to the ocean, j)roved its former use by many a 
skeleton laid bare by the washing of the sea. 

^^Have not the dead in these half open, moldering 
coffins,"^ said Hold, who was soon summoned there to 
decide uj)on the proper arrangements to be made for 
the burial, have they not stretched out their arms, as 
it were in sympathy, to offer these bodies a place by 


REMOESE. 


119 


tlieir side ? And how soon, too, will the place to 
which we shall commit these he washed away by the 
surge, and the waves resume their play with the restless 
bones. 

The isolation in which the halligs are often kept by 
wind and weather, or ice, compels the father of every 
family to see that a coffin is always in readiness. 
Among the necessary household furniture, this memento 
mori must not be lacking, difficult and painful as it 
might be elsewhere to accustom ourselves daily to 
measure with the eye the narrow house destined for us 
or one of those dear to us. Coffins, therefore, were not 
wanting for the early interment which was of course 
necessary on this occasion, and the next day, being 
Sunday, was fixed upon for the funeral. 

The burial of three bodies at once, an almost un- 
heard-of occurrence on the hallig, the extraordinary 
circumstances which had attended this event, the sin- 
gular rescue of the remainder of the ship's company, 
all these decided Hold to consecrate the whole day to 
this ceremony. At the hour of service, the three coffins 
were placed before the church door, the space within 
being too small to contain both them and the congre- 
gation. . After the reading of the Gospel for the day, 
the thirteenth Sunday after Trinity — Luke xvii. 11-19, 
the sermon commenced with the question, But where 
are the nine and the simple announcement of this 
text, however little such a selection of a single word or 
phrase may be in accordance with homiletic rules, could 
not fail to produce a strong impression, as there were 
precisely nine persons on board the ship. This ques- 
tion united again the saved and the lost, led the mind 


120 


THE IIALLia. 


back to their former companionship^ and forced it to 
consider how it would have been, had their lots been 
changed. But where are the nine For the 
strangers this question was a sermon never to be for- 
gotten. It seemed also as if in announcing this text 
the pastor had wished to make a forcible but brief ap- 
j)eal to the hearts of the strangers, for in the end he 
spoke much less than many of his hearers had expected 
with reference to the special circumstances before him, 
and made a general application of the peculiar occur- 
rences, not forgetting the congregation in the few. 
Perhaps for this very reason his words found an en- 
trance into the hearts of these few. In this way they 
were spared the disagreeable consciousness that every 
eye and every thought were upon them, and of hear- 
ing only a discourse addressed to or concerning them- 
selves. They could now follow the sermon with entire 
attention, as their fancy was not continually carried 
back to the scene of horror through which they had 
just passed. They were not disturbed by a false de- 
scription of the circumstances of their peril and rescue, 
by a depicting of emotions which they had never felt, 
by a detail of wishes and vows which had never entered 
their minds. After the sermon, the cofSns were carried 
to the adjoining burying-ground by three successive 
processions, as the want of a sufficient number of bear- 
ers made it impossible to take them all at once. But a 
single grave received the three, and the great flag of 
the ship, to which the last service of their life had been 
given, was to be lowered upon the coffins. Godber had 
borne this flag, which was hung with black crape, be- 
fore the procession ; but as he was about to lower it 


REMORSE, 


121 


into the grave^ it fell from his trembling hands, and as 
the staff struck the coffins they gave back a hollow 
sound. Godber, pale as death and trembling in every 
hmb, fell back upon the bystanders. 

But here we must go back a little to follow Godber's 
inward struggles up to this moment. With the discov- 
ery of the bodies of his * drowned companions a dark 
cloud had come over his spirits, which he had made 
every exertion to drive away, or at least to conceal from 
others. The stiff stern lines in the face of his captain, 
when he stood by his corpse on the strand among the 
sea-washed graves, seemed to inquire of him, Why 
did my pilot leave the ship before me F” and as he 
turned to look away, he saw Maria slowly going up to 
her own dwelling, and it seemed as if he heard her sigh, 
^^Godber, why hast thou forsaken thy betrothed bride 
It grew dark before his eyes, an icy hand was laid upon 
his heart, a mocking laugh rang in his ears : twice 
forsworn !” He hastened from that fearful place as if 
pursued by. a curse, and stood again in the presence of 
Idalia before he had recovered his senses. If she had 
met him with tears or even with the reproaches of 
anger, he would have fallen upon her neck, and wept 
out on her bosom the sorrows and bitterness of his full 
heart. But she came toward him with her usual gen- 
tle smile — ‘that smile which had so often charmed him 
as if with magic power ; but now, in his present mood 
it was only repulsive to him ; it was too contradictory 
to all his feelings, and it did not recur to him that she 
was yet unacquainted with what he had just seen, and 
therefore could not be expected to show sympathy for 
the fate of his lost companions. Instead of bending 
6 


122 


THE IJALLIG. 


over to her, he could not help shrinking back. Gazing 
fixedly at her, he was obliged to ask himself : Is this 
heartless, mocking child of enchantment worth a dou- 
ble treason 

Idalia stepped proudly back. She was too much ac- 
customed to an all-absorbing devotion to inquire of him 
sympathizingly what was the matter. Although love 
as well as* curiosity strongly urged her to ask an ex- 
planation of his conduct, he having now thrown him- 
self into a chair and covered his eyes with both hands, 
yet pique obtained the victory. She seated herself pet- 
tishly in another corner, and supporting her head with 
her arm, pouting out her delicate lips, pressing her 
handkerchief upon her eyes moist with tears, and throw- 
ing now and then a hasty stolen glance at Godber, she 
played perfectly the part of one in ill humor, as in fact 
she really was. At least this had become evident, that 
she did not reign so exclusively in his heart, but that 
there was still something in the world which could make 
him insensible to the power of her charms ; that her 
victory was by no means so complete as she had till now 
supposed. And was this agitation of his owing perhaps 
to a meeting with Maria ? If this thought was to the 
prejudice of her affection, which required from its object 
an idolatrous worship as well as a complete surrender 
of the heart, it also roused her pride, and through this a 
resolution to chain him by every means in her power. 
It is true that she did not herself so clearly understand 
her own feelings, and attributed this resolution chiefly 
to love. 

But Godber seemed to be entirely absent with his own 
spirit. Sometimes he brooded over his own thoughts 


BEMORSE. 


123 


in sullen silence^ sometimes sighs and convulsive starts 
announced the strong agitation within. Idalia could 
scarcely endure longer this tension between curiosity 
and vex'ation. Her insensible lover had not even heard 
her sobs. To her joy her father at length came in^ and, 
from his sympathizing and consoling words to Godber, 
who had risen hastily on his entrance and endeavored 
to appear more calm, she now learned the discovery of 
the bodies. If Godber's distress at the fate of those who 
had long been given up as lost was incomprehensible to 
her, if she felt still more wounded that so small a cause 
could call forth such behavior toward her, she had at 
least gained this, that jealousy had no longer any part 
in her judgment of his conduct. Glancing at her own 
figure in the glass, she could not help smiling at the 
idea that she could for a single moment have been jeal- 
ous of a hallig maiden. But Godber should be se- 
verely punished, at her feet should he implore forgive- 
ness, and only after long entreaty would she even give 
him her hand to kiss as a first sign of a future pardon ; 
a perfect reconciliation should not take place for several 
days, that he might never again forget how entirely his 
happiness depended upon her love, and that this hap- 
piness must be purchased by entire submission and self- 
forgetfulness. 

And this is called love ! 

For this day at least Godber did not seem inclined to 
take any steps in the way of repentance, for casting 
only a single look at Idalia, he went with Mander to 
the pastor's house to consult about the funeral. Hold 
named the persons likely to have the proper cofiins, and 
Godber went for them. When he returned to the par- 


124 


THE HALLia. 


sonage^ Mander was already gone, and Hold liad now 
an opportunity to say a few words to Godber about liis 
relations to Idalia and Maria. But scarcely had he al- 
luded to the subject, when Godber interrupted him with 
a cry which, however, sounded in no way like a willful re- 
jection of counsel, but rather like an exclamation of 
despair, I know all you are going to say,'' and rushed 
out of the house. 

Idalia waited that evening in vain for his return. She 
now indeed wept bitter tears ; though only deeply 
wounded pride had at first called them forth, yet as 
she ascribed them to the pain of injured love, they had 
raised her feelings to the height of real affection. 

The next morning Godber was missing at the breakfast 
table, and no one knew whether he had been in the house 
during the course of the night. Idalia first saw him 
again when, pale and agitated, he passed on before the 
funeral procession, carrying the mourning fiag. 

Godber had watched that night with the dead, and 
excluded every other person from this vigil, reluctant as 
the two surviving sailors had been from love to their 
old commander and companions to consent to this ar- 
rangement. He wished to be alone with the happy 
dead and his own unhappy heart. His anguish was 
here relieved by tears of sorrow. His whole joyous 
childhood, his plays with Maria, the vo\Vs he had made 
to her, the letters he had written her, the dreams of a 
bright future at her side in which he had indulged 
through all the perils of the ocean, through all the con- 
fused activity incident to his calling, the lonely nights 
at the helm, when the waves of foreign seas dashing 
round the keel brought, as it were, a greeting from liis 


REMORSE. 


125 


native island, and the stars of Heaven spoke of the 
peace of that home — all rose fresh in his memory, and 
floated by him as pictures of a lost paradise. Why 
might he not win again this paradise ? Why could he 
not shake off the fetters with which his faithlessness 
had bound him ? So he questioned himself ; and 
Idalia's image could not for a moment lead back his 
mind to its former bondage. Kather there arose in him 
an intense desire to see once more Maria, his own 
Maida. 

At midnight he left the chamber of the dead, went 
softly out into the open air, and lo ! the stars seemed 
to smile kindly down upon him, as if to bless his purpose. 
He hastened rapidly forward, stepping over many a 
grave, not to be detained by the circuitous direction of 
the common path. Already in the distance there shone 
toward him a friendly light from the longed-for house. 
It did not strike him as any thing strange even at this 
late hour. He thought it ought to be so ; she was 
watching for him, she was guiding him by this light 
back to his plighted vows. Hastily, but carefully avoid- 
ing the slightest noise, he ascended the wharf. A pro- 
jecting stone served as a step from which he could look 
over the low half-shutter. There sat Maria by the bed- 
side of her mother, her hands lying folded in her lap, 
gazing upward with half-closed eyes as if in a dream. 
Godber stood as it were rooted to the spot, holding his 
breath within his heaving chest, his eyes flxed stead- 
fastly on the young girl, who would have seemed to him, 
if he could make comparisons at such a moment, like a 
divine apparition contrasted with Idalia^s earthly image. 

So he remained a long, long time. 


126 


TH.E HALLIG. 


The poor girl^ overcome by drowsiness, nodded oc- 
casionally ; and then Godber's heart beat stronger with 
the fear that she might fall. When she again opened 
her eyes, he was constantly expecting that she would 
see him, and rush toward him as on the first day, with 
the cry, Godber, Godber, are you here again ?” 

But was not this the first day ? It seemed to him as 
if he had only been in a heavy dream, and had now 
just arrived on the hallig. 

Maria took the light, turned it carefully toward 
her mother's bed, and listened to her breathing. So 
passed away hours ; but for Godber they were minutes. 
Morning had begun to dawn ; but it was still midnight 
for him. The freshness which precedes the rising of 
the sun chilled him. But he did not perceive it ; it 
only directed his mind from Maria to the occasion of 
her night-watchings. Ah ! thought he, her mother is 
ill, and thou, thou alone art the guilty cause. Thou 
bringest the mother to the grave, and the daughter — 
he could not finish it — will follow her. Within, at her 
feet, must he consecrate these hours of repentance, on 
her bosom awake again to new life. 

He had his hand already on the door latch. The 
cock crowed for the morning in the loft just by him. 
He shrunk within himself like^a surprised criminal. 
“Peter, the betrayer," he muttered low to himself, 
withdrew his hand hastily from the door, and looked 
wildly round. The stars had disappeared, and a gray 
fog concealed the first red of the morning. Godber's 
heaving chest drew in deep, hasty draughts of the chill, 
heavy air. He felt again aU the chains with which he 
was bound, and dashed rapidly away. Breatliless he 


REMORSE. 


127 


reached once more the room of the dead. The lamp 
was nearly burned out, and threw only a faint glimmer 
into the darkness. His rapid footsteps struck one of 
the coffins, the dry hoards gave forth a hollow sound, 
and the Living sank unconsciously down by the side of 
the dead. 

After such a night the day following must naturally 
be a most trying one to Godber. The complete ex- 
haustion of his physical strength gave his imagination 
entire mastery over him. He saw and heard in every 
thing only allusions to his faithlessness. In this church 
had Maria prayed for his happy return ; hither had she 
thought to walk the first time by his side. This whole 
congregation knew of his betrothal ; every look ex- 
pressed the deepest contempt. Every whisper was an 
imprecation upon him ; every step was turne.d away 
from him. The very letters of the psalm-book shrunk 
from his eyes, and the tones of music forsook his poi- 
soned breath. At the pastor's question, Where are 
the nine the pale faces of the dead seemed to greet 
him, and say, with a grimace, The nine are again to- 
gether." That these words were connected with the 
sermon he could not comprehend ; he saw and heard 
only the dead, who were always pressing nearer to him, 
and whose icy breath penetrated to his very bones, 
while hot drops fell from his forehead. 

In this state, after the conclusion of the church service, 
was he drawn unconsciously into the funeral procession, 
as the bearer of the mourning flag. But the flag of the 
ship, which had been intrusted to him, seemed trans- 
formed into a huge wave that was rolling on before him, 
and dragging him after it. He grasped the staff* with a 


128 


THE HALLia. 


convulsive effort, clinging to it more and more, as he be- 
came ever more impressed with the delirious fancy, that 
he had fallen into the sea, and was holding on to the 
last plank of the shattered ship. Tortured by this hor- 
rible idea, he had thrice headed the funeral train, and 
now stood by the open grave. He gazed down, and 
strained his eyes in vain to penetrate the pit at his feet. 
Deeper and deeper the bottomless abyss seemed to open 
before him. Leaning further and further forward to 
measure the grave with his uncertain eye, he would 
have fallen in if Mander and Oswald, who saw in him 
only a deep mourner for his lost companions, had not 
held him back. Just then he heard the pastor, speaking 
of the captain^s refusal to leave the ship which was in 
his charge, say, There is a blessing for the faithful, if 
not in time, in eternity These words crushed his last 
strength. He murmured softly, like one dying of a 
broken heart, And a curse with the unfaithful, both 
in time and eternity.'^' Again he would have fallen, 
had he not leaned his trembling frame against the flag- 
staff which was thrust into the ground by his side. 
Hold was obliged to remind him that he must lower the 
flag into the grave. He seized it convulsively and stag- 
gered forward. There lay the three coffins ; but though 
the vault had looked fathomless before, he now saw 
them, as it were, rising toward him ; the black lids 
seemed to fly open, and the dead to start up with angry 
threatenings. He reeled backward in terror, and the 
flag fell from his fainting hands down upon the coffins. 


CHAPTER X. 

RESIGNATION, 

Beneath that cottage roof so lowly, 

Simple in life, in purpose holy, 

Eipens a priceless heart ; 

Each wound to it a blessing brings, 

From darkest hours its sunlight springs. 

And dew from every smart. 

Marians conduct during these days had been the 

mirror of a heart given to God. She performed the 

household duties that devolved upon her with the same 
zeal and the same patience as before. One who had 
not known her when cheered by the hope of a bright 
future, could never have suspected with what anguish 
the young girl, who seemed born with this still, quiet, 
nature prayed daily for the victory over herself, and 
what strength she needed to fix her in her choice to be 
the handmaid of the Lord. God, who cares for the 

broken heart, and who will lay no more upon any one 

than he can bear, lightened her struggle by the illness 
which attacked her mother. And Maria, as if she had 
been conscious that this illness was to bring healing to 
her wound, gave herself up with such devotion and 
self-sacrifice to the care of her mother, that all her 
6 * 


130 


THE HALLIG. 


thoughts and feelings were entirely absorbed in this 
new occupation. The hallig afforded no medical aid 
and to seek it elsewhere was not within the means of 
the poor widow^ had there been a wish to do so, and if 
rest, care, and domestic remedies had not been thought 
sufficient in cases of sickness. Hold frequently visited 
the patient, and when she sometimes alluded to the 
faithlessness of Godber, Maria would quickly interrupt 
her, saying, Never mind that, mother, I can take care 
of you all the better for not having him to think 
about.'’" When, however, she talked with the pastor 
alone, a tone of sorrow would sometimes break forth, 
but as if he had only one message of peace to bring 
down from the mouth of the great Carer for souls, he 
always returned to the plain requirement of pious sub- 
mission. 

He could not help smiling when Maria, on one of 
these visits, gave him a couple of novels much read at 
that time, with a request that he would return them to 
young Mander. He now learned that Oswald, perhaps, 
merely to gratify a desire for a little variety in the uni- 
formity of the life to which he was condemned, had 
sought the acquaintance of Maria, bringing one day a 
bottle of wine for the mother, and the next, the novels 
for the daughter. 

But she thought she should understand as little of 
the books as she had been able to comj)rehend of his 
conversation. Indeed, she did not like the latter be- 
cause it sounded very much like what Godber had writ- 
ten in some of his letters, and which was probably the 
cause of his having forsaken her ; and unacquainted 
with the flower whose very name should bind fast the 


RESIGNATION. 


131 


memory^ slie added, with the keen irony of a deep 
wounded heart : 

They talk about forget-me-not as if it were some- 
thing to be plucked like a flower that is destined to 
wither. No wonder they can forget so easily."' 

Ah !" thought Hold, as he went home, these fine 
gentlemen who are attracted by every pretty face, when 
they have the simplicity of innocence before them, do 
not perceive that the clear crystal is incapable of im- 
bibing their poison, and that its purity remains unsul- 
lied. Ah, my fine Oswald ! would you first skillfully 
prepare the soil with your novels ? But here is no soil 
on which such ensnaring plants can take root. This is 
God's own garden, and no foul bed of concealed passion. 
Maria must long be your pupil before she understands 
you and your poison, thereby giving it power to injure 
her. And the forget-me-not which blooms in her heart 
like a flower in God's paradise, that shalt thou not 
pluck so lightly — that shall God's angels protect 
against every secret or open attempt to pluck it." 

To spare the father, Hold waited for an opportunity 
to return the books to Oswald when no one was pres- 
ent ; and said to him, at the same time. 

Do not suppose I have taken these books from the 
young woman. She gave them to me quite of her own 
accord because she can not understand such things." 

I thought," stammered Oswald, with some embar- 
rassment, “ that a little cultivation would not harm one 
for whom nature had done so much." 

And was it her personal attractions," asked Hold, 
seriously, which first led you to think about her men- 
tal culture ? Why then, if you prize this cultivation 


132 


THE HALLIG. 


SO higlily, do you pass by without sympathy those who 
are equally uncultivated^ but with less external beauty?’" 

It is quite natural that those who possess external 
beauty should excite particular interest/" 

Yes, quite natural/" replied the pastor, ^^if we are 
in the habit of allowing our interest to depend upon 
mere physical charms."" 

You tafe the matter too seriously,"" said Oswald 
smiling, having recovered entirely from his momentary 
embarrassment ; but, as shepherd, you are quite right 
to see that no mischief happen to any of your flock."" 

^^Was there then any wrong intended,"" said Hold, 
with a severer tone ; and Oswald, who felt himself 
caught by his own expression, answered after a pause, 

I have told you already that I desired for the girl, 
who, I will not deny, pleased me much, at first sight, a 
little more cultivation of mind and heart, and accord- 
ingly gave her the books."" 

For Maria"s sake,"" resumed the pastor, I should 
not have wasted a word about this affair. She has that 
innocence which may drink poison, and be unharmed — 
which may tread upon serpents, and be unwounded ; 
her heart is simple and devout. For her understanding 
sin is too high ; for her heart it is too low. But for 
your sake, young man, permit me to say a few words. 
Compare yourself, for once, in your own conscience, with 
this Maria. You know much, she very little. You 
know the history, the language, and the customs of na- 
tions ; Maria"s knowledge is almost entirely confined 
within the sphere of this little island. You have seen 
and experienced much, and can talk of a hundred thou- 
sand things, the names of which Maria has never heard. 


RESIGNATION. 


133 


From your refinement of manners^ your pleasing ad- 
dress, and your judicious use of all your advantages for 
improvement, you pass for a well educated person. 
Maria is straight-forward and natural ; speaks what is 
in her heart without ornament or coloring. You seek 
recreation from business by entering into all the pleas- 
ures which excite the senses and gratify the desires of 
this mortal body. Maria prays and toils day after day, 
and nurses her sick mother with a self-sacrificing love. 
You regard joy and sorrow alike as the sport of chance. 
Maria thanks God and trusts her Father in heaven. 
You stand far above her, far as earth with her gifts and 
pleasures can raise you, and yet'^ — he took Oswald’s 
hand, and concluded in a somewhat elevated tone — I 
say to you, if you believe in God, then in the name of 
that true God, I say to you that Maria stands far above 
you, for her walk is in Heaven.” Young Mander hesi- 
tated between displeasure and shame, and then replied 
with a tone of mingled vexation and embarrassmennt, 
A little more culture would do the pious young woman 
no harm.” 

Maria’s education,” replied Hold, is sufficient for 
her condition, and whatever else it might be desirable 
for her to know is not to be found in these books. Yes 
— pardon me if, as a fellow-islander of Maria, I speak 
plainly and directly what is in my heart — what you 
might learn from her is more and greater than any 
thing that she could learn from all your knowledge and 
all your books. Suppose she were capable of the cul- 
ture you offer, what would she gain by it ? Discontent 
at lier situation, and a longing for a life by her unattain- 
able, and what is still worse, the excitement of passions 


134 


THE HALLIG. 


wliicli as yet have found no entrance into her heart ; 
but who would lose^ irrecoverably lose, the patience 
and repose of a spirit given to God, the peace of a soul 
now triumphing over earthly sorrows ; lose the quiet of 
an unsj)otted conscience, and the sure happiness of a 
childlike undoubting faith/" ' 

How can you ascribe such a pernicious influence to 
these harmless novels ? They are designed only for 
momentary amusement, but, at the same time, they in- 
sensibly improve the understanding/" 

take,"" was Hold"s reply, ^^such books for what 
they are — mere fruits of the imaginative faculty — and 
are too well acquainted with the life which they describe 
to And in them any thing except ourselves in a new cos- 
tume. But for Maria, if she could understand tliem, 
they would oj)en a new world, a world which would 
kindle as ardent desires, and therefore would be as in- 
jurious to her, as America was, on its flrst discovery, to 
the Spaniards. But I am forgetting that ycur wish for 
Maria"s improvement was only a preface to your playing 
the same part with her that your sister is now doing 
with Godber."" 

Oswald did not again attempt to vindicate himself 
from this reproach. He seized rather, with an eagerness 
which betrayed his satisfaction at seeing the conversa- 
tion likely to take another direction, the opportunity to 
bring forward Idalia as the subject of discussion. 

How can she help it,"" said he, if her attractions 
are so irresistible ? She has already seen at her feet, 
men very different from this Godber."" 

How can she help it !"’ said Hold, sarcastically. 

These words seem to me like an outwork which is 


RESIGNATION. 


135 


thrown uj) against the advancing enemy, from want of 
time to erect more sT^ibstantial defenses. But it would 
be idle to talk with you on this subject, as you would 
even now be treading in the very footsteps of your sis- 
ter, if a broken heart, particularly when God's holy 
angels have set their watch there, were not as difficult 
to conque^ as it is to subdue a heart in which vanity 
and sensuousness stand guard." 

As Oswald, reddening with anger, was taking his hat, 
the pastor added, 

One word more, Mr. Mander ! You will always 
find me ready for every service due to the guest of our 
hallig ; and you will very much oblige me, if, during 
these few weeks, you will allow me the pleasure of en- 
joying as much as possible of your society. It would 
be a great gratification to me to talk over, with your 
father and yourself, those subjects which I have so often 
discussed with my early friends. You must, however, 
permit me, in my own way, to seek to win your esteem, 
and consequently to show myself to you as a shepherd 
of souls on every fit occasion. If I failed in this ; if I 
suffered the office confided to me by God to be forgot- 
ten, I should forfeit the respect of every reasonable man. 
You must go your own way as pleases you, and leave 
to me the path which my calling and my conscience 
point out to me ; and in this way, we will endeavor to 
make the brief hours of our intercourse together pass 
pleasantly ; and I trust we shall part from each other 
as men who have cause to rejoice that they have met." 

Oswald was somewhat softened by this turn, and 
withdrew after some indifferent phrases which were in- 
tended to be friendly. 


CHAPTER XL 


EAKTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH, 

Leaving the furrow, dew, and night. 

Boldly the lark now soars away I 
Mounts to the fields of morning light, 

To seek in heaven the new-born day. 

So Faith, on pinions strong, o’er grief shall rise. 

And view, with tearless eye, a Heaven above the skies. 

Those fantasies which at last left Godber fainting 
by the side of the open grave, proved the commence- 
ment of a fever common in these islands ; a fever which 
rages for two days with violence, and then leaves the 
patient one day of repose to prepare him for a fresh 
attack. Idalia now showed again the whole passion- 
ateness of her nature. She threw herself on Godber's 
couch ; she covered his cold lips with her burning 
kisses ; she called heaven and earth to witness that she 
could not live without him, and reproached herself 
bitterly for her unsympathizing treatment of him. 
Mander saw with astonishment the powerful influence 
which love was now exercising over his daughter. It is 
true that her inclination for her preserver had not been 
concealed from him, but he thought that when time 
should have weakened her gratitude, distance would 


EARTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH. 137 

f 

make her forget the passing excitement. He had pit- 
ied the young man for whom he could not fail to have a 
! regard, when he perceived how he was ensnared by the 
charms of Idalia. But accustomed as he was to be 
♦rather a sympathizing comj)anion . for his children, 
through their j)ath of life, than a paternal guide, he 
had hesitated to disturb his daughter who was so hap- 
py in her present attachment, by a clear exposition of 
the true state of things. Now he rejoiced at this re- 
serve, for if Idalia’s love was really so deep and sincere 
as it at present appeared, he would not wish to oppose 
her choice. He did not lack the means of making 
Godber captain of some large vessel, and he might 
hope, from the tried skill and integrity of the young 
man, as well as from his good heart and firm character, 
to find in him a worthy son-in-law, in whose hands Idal- 
ia's happiness would be safe. With such sentiments he 
did not need the imploring entreaties of his daughter 
to induce him to seek the aid of a physician. Os- 
wald, for this purpose, went over to Husum, and re- 
turned the following day with the physician for whom 
Idalia had waited with the most anxious impatience. 
The doctor, unacquainted with the mental state of the 
young man, saw in his case nothing but an ordinary 
fever, and said that at present only good nursing and 
a careful diet were necessary, and that medicine would 
not be required for some days. 

Idalia was obliged to be satisfied with this announce- 
ment, unpleasant as it was to her. She had watched 
nearly the whole of the first night by Godber’s bed, and 
only with difficulty could be induced to seek rest for 
herself when the sufferer, after the wildest fancies, in 


138 


THE HALLia. 


which the emotions that disturbed his breast mani- 
fested themselves strongly and incoherently — at last 
fell asleep. Godber’s youthful vigor seemed deter- 
mined to overcome the disease by a long slumber. 
When he awoke, the chill that precedes fever was al- 
ready past ; his pulse was growing quicker, bringing 
back the former delirium. Idalia sat again by his bed- 
side. He stared wildly at her, without making any 
answer to her inquiries. It seemed as if he was trying 
to collect his thoughts, and as if the young person sit- 
ting before him, was totally unknown to him, and that 
he could not bring her form within the sphere of his 
recollection. Suddenly he shuddered convulsively, his 
features contracted as if some strange peril of death 
had presented itself, and with the exclamation, thrice 
forsworn V he concealed his face among the pillows, 
uttering a deep groan. 

Idalia could but partially divine what had so much 
agitated the young man, and she was sometimes half 
inclined to regard the whole merely as the illusion of 
fever, having no foundation in his actual feelings ; but 
she was heartily rejoiced when, on the following days, 
these fancies ceased to return with the access of fever, 
and Godber's tenderness for her manifested itself in the 
most unequivocal manner, more gentle, more submissive 
than ever. His physical weakness softened the conflict 
within. Idalia's faithful care had touched him more 
deeply, harmonizing, as it did, with his own character, 
than all the former j^i’oofs of her affection, although 
these had excited a more passionate rapture.- He re- 
signed himself at once to his destiny, without strug- 
gling longer against it by recalling the . memory of the 


EARTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH. 139 

past. Upon her only rested his feeble gaze ; only when 
she sat by him was he satisfied ; only her smile cheered 
his pale face. As the child watches its mother^ so his 
eye followed all her motions^ and, though he said little, 
the most entire devotion spoke in his very silence. As 
a rosy twilight, after a stormy day, lends the liveliest 
coloring to nature, now breathing in new creating life, 
so now was spread over Godber's whole being, a pe- 
culiar gentleness, tenderness, and submissiveness. This 
change in his feelings formerly so much more passionate, 
arose, in part, from a really deeper affection for Idalia, 
I and in part, from the necessity not indeed clearly un- 
j derstood by himself, of weaving his whole being into 
; hers, in order to secure peace of mind. 

This deep, feeling on the part of Godber was not 
without an important influence on the heart of Idalia. 

' She had never been so near true affection as now. This 
unusual, unexpected softness quite foreign to her char- 
acter, that entire fusion of every thought and feeling 
with the beloved object, attracted her instinctively, and 
there were hours when she even experienced something 
! similar within herself. At such times she would sing, 
i accompanying herself with her lute which she played 
I with superior skill, and whose preservation she owed to 
! the care with which she put it away after use on board 
the ship, for she prized it as a means of displaying her 
talent, and once every day at least, must she sing, at 
Godber's Request, the following song : 

My former selfj truly, 

I know not again ; 

I Yet unlike the present 

How could I have been ? 


140 


THE HALLia. 


Did not thy first greeting 
Cradle my young life — 

As thy last caressing 
Would seal its death strife? 

Can the flower bloom freshly, 

Wanting light and dew, 

Can the rolling ocean 
Touch the ether blue ? 

Is there any region 
Where thy potent will 
Could not place thy creature 
There held captive still ? 

But I only render 
Back what thou dost give, 

If, alone for loving 
Thee, I wish to live. 

Godber saw in this and other similar expressions, proofs 
of the most devoted love, and they served to strengthen 
him in his effort to cover his former relation to Maria 
with the vail of complete forgetfulness ; for they seemed 
at the same time to impose upon him the full return 
of such an affection, as a duty, in the fulfillment of 
which his heart too was deeply interested. 

So passed about two weeks, and, except the debility 
which naturally followed such intense excitement of 
body and mind, Godber had almost entirely recovered 
from his illness, and the bond of affection between the 
lovers was greatly strengthened. The manner, too, in 
which Mander spoke of this connection, promised a cer- 
tain future to an attachment which till now had seemed 
to Idalia only a pleasant dream of the moment, a trans- 
itory boon of fate which she had surrendered herself 


EARTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH. 141 

without consideration ; and she now seriously regarded 
herself as really a betrothed bride. 

Although she confessed to herself that many new 
cords of her heart had been touched by her love for 
Godber, Idalia, reversing the words of her song, consid- 
ered him as her creature. Had she not elevated him 
above the narrow sphere of existence in which he had 
once been contented to live ? Had she not opened to 
him a new world, even to the portals of which, without 
her, his boldest dreams could scarcely have soared ? 
Must he not see in her the star which was lighting him 
to a brighter, happier future than his birth and life 
thus far entitled him to exj)ect ? That she could think 
all this clearly and, except in occasional moments of 
self-forgetfulness, weigh so nicely her position in refer- 
ence to the young man, and regulate her conduct 
accordingly, shows how little her heart was accessible 
to true womanly love. 

Perhaps a circumstance which occurred on the ninth 
day of GodbePs illness, may have helped Idalia to 
make a more precise estimate of her situation. 

It was a cheerful afternoon. The mild autumn sun 
shone warm and kindly into the little room, which was 
really charming in its lively coloring and neat order; 
Various occupations having taken all the other inmates 
from the house, Idalia was sitting alone by Godber's 
couch, and watching his peaceful slumber. His pale 
face, from which every trace of the rude life of a mari- 
ner had disappeared, while returning health had 
breathed the first faint flush upon his cheeks, showed 
in this reflected sunlight its manly beauty to the best 
advantage. She had never found him so attractive, 


142 


THE HALLia. 


and could not refrain from touching his lips with a 
gentle kiss. It did not awake him, though he must 
have felt it, for, from the quiet smile which played 
around his mouth, it seemed to have blended itself 
with some pleasant dream, or to have called one forth. 
Idalia leaned back in her chair, and turning her eyes 
with a deepening tranquillity toward the sleeper, she 
soon fell herself into that half sleep which is something 
between waking and dreaming, and in which, some- 
times with half-ojDened, sometimes with closed eyes, we 
smile on the charming pictures of fancy ; as the child 
who knows that the mother’s loving face is over the 
cradle, often in his light dreams throws through his 
scarce lifted eyes a drowsy glance toward her. 

Bewildered, and uncertain whether she was waking 
or sleeping, Idalia started from this slumber, as she 
saw, standing at the foot of the bed, a dark figure 
which was gazing fixedly at her and Godber, and which, 
upon her suddenly waking, laid its finger upon its lips 
with a sign toward Godber, as if begging silence for his 
sake. The sign was scarcely necessary, as the unex- 
pected appearance of Maria, whose countenance night- 
watching and mental suffering had changed to a deadly 
paleness, increased by her dress of deepest mourning, 
completelj^ paralyzed her rival. The black kerchief 
which was thrown over her head, and almost entirely 
covered her forehead and chin, making the pallor of her 
cheek and the feeble glance of her eye still more con- 
spicuous, gave to this figure a startling aspect. Maria 
had very carefully clipped from Godber’s finger, the 
plain gold ring which she had given him and which he 
still wore, and hidden it in the folds of her little shawl. 


EARTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH. 143 


Then she drew from her own hand the ring of be- 
trothal, bent toward Idalia as if to give it to her ; her 
lips moved — she tried to speak — but her tongue refused 
its office — only an audible sigh forced itself from her 
heart — a hot tear fell on Idalia's hand and the ring 
. upon her lap. But Maria turned quickly round, threw 
from the door-way another long, painful look at God- 
ber, then looked at Idalia with a confiding smile, as if 
to commend his happiness to het, and — had vanished. 

Idalia remained long in the same position, before she 
could draw any clear ideas out of the confusion of her 
thoughts and feelings. It was now perfectly plain to 
her that she had broken the heart of a loving girl, and 
her sympathy was excited in the highest degree. At 
the same time, she felt herself unpleasantly restricted 
as to the freedom of her own heart, from the fact that 
it had now become a duty to bestow on the young man 
an affection as sincere as that which he had lost in the 
heart of Maria, through her. Even though this duty 
might harmonise with her inclination, still it was a fet- 
ter, and it was, therefore, in accordance with her char- 
acter, rather a check than a spur to her passion. She 
concealed from Godber the fact that she had received 
the ring, and said nothing to him of Maria's visit to 
his bedside. She was now, in her relation to him, bur- 
dened with a secret. She might have felt conscious 
that her love would not stand every trial ; how, then, 
could she have full confidence in his love ? 

Maria, indeed, would scarcely have gone there, as above 
related, to remind Idalia of her, if the death of her 
mother had not excited her feelings to a greater degree 
even than the infidelity of her lover, and given her an 


144 


THE HALLIG. 


impulse which had driven her out of the current of her 
ordinary life. 

The physician who had come to the hallig on God- 
ber's account, had, at the request of the pastor, visited 
the poor widow, although her illness was thought by no 
means serious. How startled was Hold, when the doc- 
tor, after his visit, informed him that medical aid was 
here too late, and that the aged patient was rapidly ap- 
proaching her final release. Must Maria then stand 
completely orphaned, alone in her sorrow ? Must her 
hard-earned faith in the guidance of her Heavenly 
Father receive a new shock ? The pastor endeavored 
to prepare her as gently as possible for the loss that 
was threatening her. To his astonishment, she received 
almost with indifference, the gradual communication of 
the physician’s opinion. Could any thing be too hard 
for her, after the sorrow through which she had already 
passed ? She seemed almost ready to challenge Heaven 
to smite her yet more heavily. Only when Hold made 
her observe how little such submission deserved the 
name, how much she was sinning by a determination 
not to feel the grief which her Heavenly Father was 
again preparing for her, when he with some severity 
called this indifference unchristian, then she burst into 
tears and asked sorrowfully. 

What would you have me to do 
would have an open soul,” answered Hold, where 
the warm beams of Divine mercy, which also mani- 
fest themselves in affliction, may find a fruitful soil, no 
closed, icy heart, over which the tempest may pass and 
leave it untouched. I would have childlike obedience, 
not obstinate endurance. I would have life, not death. 


EARTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH. 145 

The Lord shall see thy tears and hear thy sighs, that 
thy humility may be made manifest, and thy wounds 
from his chastening. Thy praye/s and entreaties shall 
rise to Heaven for strength and energy.’ Thou shalt not 
be silent before him, as if thou already hadst what 
thou needest. Thou shalt learn from the Author and 
Finisher of our faith, to whom it would have been a 
small thing to assume that cold, hard indifference with 
which thou seekest to bear and suffer ; thou shalt learn 
from him who wept and prayed^ ^ Father, if it be pos- 
sible let this cup pass from me.^ See, Maria, a spirit 
has come over you which is not the true one, however 
much it may boast of its patience and tranquillity. Let 
us who have a Father in heaven ; let us go to him in 
sorrow as well as in joy. We will speak with him con- 
fidingly — with child-like frankness and sincerity of 
heart. We will ask him, and he shall answer and ex- 
plain to us why he hath done thus. Certainly we sliall 
have an answer such as the Saviour obtained, when he 
cried to Heaven upon the cross, ^ My God, my God, 
why hast thou forsaken me and the reply was re- 
ceived when, in expiring, he prayed, ^ Father, into thy 
hands I commend my spirit.^ Go into thy chamber, and 
weep from a full heart, before thy Father who is in 
Heaven, and may thy tears no longer fall like burning 
drops on a barren soil, but may they become a heavenly 
dew to cool the wounds of thy heart.'" 

Maria's tears flowed more freely, and she said at 
length, ^^Now I understand in myself what means, 
^Lord, I believe ! help thou my unbelief !'" 

“Yes, it is so," replied Hold. “The understanding 
of Scripture comes to us only by degrees. It would al- 
7 


146 


THE HALLIG. 


ways remain to us a book sealed with seven seals, if the 
experience of our lives did not come to our assistance, 
and open to us the revelations of God in their fullness, 
as words of truth and salvation. We live ourselves into 
the sacred writings, and in this way, they become for us 
light and life. The mere reading of the Bible leaves us 
in much darkness, even where we fancy that we see 
clearly. So then, if with all thy past experiences,, and 
with what still remains before thee, thou wilt knock at 
this sacred portal, it shall be opened to thee. A rich 
treasury of comfort shall lie before thee, and thou shalt 
be filled with resignation to the will of thy Father in 
Heaven — a resignation which is sad, and yet joyful, 
which trembles, and yet overcomes, which feels pain- 
fully the loss of what has been taken away, and yet 
rests peacefully in God who hath taken it.'’" 

Maria"s mother died as she had lived, calmly and 
devoutly. She received the Lord’s Supper, not as the 
solace of a troubled conscience reserved for a dying 
bed, but as the last seal of a faith in which she had re- 
mained steadfast even unto the end. Her age made 
her incapable of understanding the depth of the wound 
from which her daughter was bleeding. Standing on 
the border of the grave, her thoughts were turned away 
from earthly things ; and the vanity of our temporal 
wishes and hopes appearing more clearly to her now that 
she was so near to her eternal home, it was impossible 
for her to enter into the feelings of a youthful heart, 
which does not so easily surrender its claims to this 
world’s happiness. She feared therefore nothing for her 
daughter, and the less because she saw in her religious 
character a certain assurance that comfort from above 


EARTHLY LOVE AND CHRISTIAN FAITH. 147 

would not fail her, and that she would he able to over- 
come all things. Her last words it Maria were the ex- 
hortation, Continue to trust God, and keep in the 
right path, for with such it will be well at last V and 
she departed with the exclamation, Lord Jesus, receive 
my spirit 

So passed away one who had experienced much bit- 
terness in her life, but who never lost her Christian 
faith nor her inward peace. She passed from a world in 
which few had known her, and in which she would 
scarcely be missed by any but her daughter ; and yet 
many a one whose life millions have admired, and whose 
fame millions celebrate, might envy this widow, poor in 
spirit and in worldly goods, and so soon to be forgotten 
in her little circle, her place by the throne of God. 

To him whose calling leads him often to the bed of 
the dying, and who has occasion to observe the simple 
Christian spirit in the hour of departure from a life as 
quiet and simple — to him any display of worldly grand- 
eur is distasteful, even where it has true merit as its 
foil, and if merit be wanting, it is hard for him to pre- 
vent his sympathy from passing into contempt. 


CHAPTER XII. 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 

0 proud philosophy I thy shining stream 
Has brought me no refreshing ; all is vain. 

Give back for one short hour young faith’s bright dream, 

Give back my heart, my child-heart back again I 

Many persons in whose house there is no chamber 
for retirement, and most of those who do not lack their 
closet, would find it very agreeable if they had the op- 
portunity to withdraw themselves, for a longer or shorter 
time, completely out of the circle of their ordinary sur- 
roundings and activity, and be thrown entirely upon 
themselves, in a life of tranquil leisure. Many a tone 
which is drowned in the tumult of every-day action will 
then be heard ; much that lay concealed in the depths 
of the heart will come to light, many a plant which has 
till now wanted the proper soil, the proper air, will put 
forth its blossoms, and at the same time, the worm will 
become visible in many a fruit which has hitherto 
seemed very fair. We are spiritually more or less en- 
slaved by our earthly calling, and by the circle in which 
we live. In the chains and bands which are thrown 
around us by our position in the world, we easily lose 
the strength and capacity for free observation beyond 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 149 

tlie sphere of vision which it allows us. The require- 
ments, the enjoyments, and even the prejudices of the 
class to which we belong, and the relations which we 
sustain toward others, exercise an imperceptible do- 
minion over our thoughts and feelings, and are so many 
clogs to hinder us from taking our proper place as men 
in this world and in the kingdom of God. 

This Mander felt while on the hallig. It seemed to 
him as if he had taken off the garb which till now he 
had always worn, and when he tried to gird it again 
closely about him, the old garment seemed intolerable. 
He had always expected to find eventually in philosophy, 
to which he devoted all his leisure hours, that flood of 
sunlight which should give him a full and clear view of 
the transitory human and the everlasting divine ; al- 
though he was obliged to confess that so far he had 
risen no more than the unfledged bird which vainly beats 
its wings — that between the search after the fountain 
from which all illumination j)roceeds, and the transfig- 
uration in and through the same, there is a great gulf 
fixed. Now the question forced itself upon him, 
whether it were possible for philosophy entirely to 
shake from herself the dust of this lower world, on 
which she was striving to reign a queen ? Whether 
the most acute thinker must not be influenced, in some 
degree, by his time, his nationality, his relations in 
life, his hereditary habits and the errors of his prede- 
cessors ? Experience seemed to answer the question 
in the affirmative. The point, which had been sup- 
posed the summit, has proved only the foot of yet an- 
other ascent, and philosophy, with her changing sys- 
tems, resembles a perpetually molting serpent. Beau- 


150 


TUE HALLia. 


tiful as the new covering may be at first, it can not es- 
cape the fate of its precursor, and must become a dull, 
colorless thing, serving merely as a foil to yet another 
which succeeds it. 

These thoughts led Mander to have many earnest 
conversations with Hold, in which, when Oswald was 
not jpresent, he gradually allowed the pastor a clear in- 
sight into his heart, which was by no means at rest on 
the subject of religion. 

How often,"’ said Mander, on the announcement 
of some new system of philosophy, have I rejoiced like 
a child over its Christmas gift ; and when, having toiled 
through its difficulties, I at last comprehended it, I 
found only new questions without answers, new riddles 
without solutions ; a deep insight into the human heart, 
but no food for it ; profound research indeed, but no 
rewarding discoveries. Philosophers have seemed to me 
like persons digging for a treasure whose hollow ringing 
is continually urging them to new efforts, while mis- 
chievous spirits are alv/ays sinking it lower and lower."" 

Let us,"" said Hold, consider for a moment an ap- 
parently trifling circumstance — the difficult language 
of philosophers. There is a wonderful power in words. 
When man gives a name to an object, he makes him- 
self, as it were, master of it. It is no longer a vague 
something which confuses his thoughts and may at any 
moment escape from him ; no, it is bound to follow his 
intellectual eye, and must listen as soon as he calls it 
by name. There lies a deep significance in that por- 
tion of the account of the creation, in which it is said 
that God brought every creature to Adam to see what 
he would call them. In this way was given to him a 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 151 

fixed dominion over them ; for now with the name, 
their form, their properties, their habits, in one single 
expression, immediately ^rose before his mind, and now 
he could see at a glance their similarity, and their un- 
likeness, their usefulness, and their hurtfulness. So we 
are first really masters of an idea, when we have found 
the proper expression for it. Our thinking is speaking, 
either inwardly to ourselves, or for the outward ear. 
To become masters of the idea of God, as that philoso- 
phy aims to do which seeks to bring down divine 
things to the level of man's capacity, we must also 
have a language to express him. If we have not this 
language — and I think the want of it sufficiently 
proved by the hollow, ambiguous, sophistical dialect of 
modern philosophy which seems to writhe helplessly 
beneath its own sepulchral stone — so we must not ex- 
pect from this philosophy any explanation of divine 
things." 

And indeed," sighed Mander, we are not to ex- 
pect it from any quarter, since all explanation must 
come to us through language." 

Through no human language," replied Hold, but 
through the divine speech, through faith. 

Do you think it is so strange," continued Hold, 
that God, the Invisible, the Eternal, takes a differ- 
ent method to reveal himself to us from that through 
which we attain to a knowledge of things visible and 
temporal ? To these we may speah — to use the word 
in the sense of the serpent-charmers — we may grasp 
them, hold them, and make ourselves masters of them 
by the power of our intellect, whose chief force lies in 
words. Shall this faculty, whose development and per- 


152 


THE HALL I a. 


fection depends upon languaga^ shall this hxculty ven- 
ture so far as to prepare a place for the Almighty in 
this our dust^ that we may have, hold, and search him 
out, as something to be discussed, as one to be meas- 
ured by the measure of our conceptions, to be bound 
within the limits of our comprehension? Should we 
not rather conclude beforehand that if he desired to 
make himself known to us and to be our God, he 
would choose another method ? This method, then, is 
faith ; by it he manifests himself to us, and through it 
we come to him ; this is the only language in which 
heaven and earth may converse together, and we dis- 
solve this communion, and ourselves forget, and teach 
others to forget, this speech, when we seek to bring the 
divine within the sphere of our own vision by the same 
means which we use to comprehend the earthly.” 

Are 'you not speaking of his being, his attributes, 
his government, in your character of theologian ?” 

As I speak of the spiritual in view of the material, ' 
of its indivisibility, its immortality, its invisibility, and 
of its manifestation by faith. I never attempt to make 
my hearers conceive of the soul as a naked idea. So 
also of God. In our sermons we call him Creator, 
Preserver, and Euler ; we point out all the manifesta- 
tions of him in nature, in the guidance of our earthly 
destinies, in faith, in the conscience of men and in rev- 
elation ; but in so doing we only prepare the way for 
him into the hearts of men ; our sermons do not aspire 
to be the way. Indeed, if God himself had not al- 
ready trod the path before, all our smoothing and 
straightening would never carry him thither. And it is 
here I think that philosophy is in error. She sets her- 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 153 

self up as the way to God ; she takes upon herself the 
office of the Holy Spirit, and performs it very badly, 
for she makes no use of its principal instrument, faith, 
or at least where she can avoid it — and then not as the 
only ladder to heaven, not as the only bond of union 
between that which is above and that which is beneath. 

But,'" inquired Mander, does faith speak clearly 
and distinctly in all hearts ? Must not philosophy first 
overcome a host of errors which force themselves into 
the idea of God ? Must she not labor continually to 
erect a barrier against superstition, which, like a rolling 
sea, is ever threatening humanity with a new deluge ? 
Has she not, to this end, inspired the efforts of the no- 
blest of our race 

Allow me first," said Hold, ^Ho reply to your last 
remark. Was there philosophy in the language of the 
prophets, ^ The Lord hath spoken V Was there philoso- 
phy in the language of Christ, ^ My words are not mine, 
but the words of Him that sent me ?' Is there philos- 
ophy in the demon of Socrates ? or in the myths of 
Plato ? In all this, is not rather the voice of God as- 
sumed to have preceded discourse about God ? Is 
there not here this lesson for our philosophy, that the 
human understanding can bring forth no revelations 
from the depth of the Godhead which none can search 
out, except the Spirit of God, and him to whom he 
will reveal himself. As to what you say of philosophy 
as a barrier against superstition, he who came into the 
world to be the light of the world, and whose teachings, 
whatever you may think of them, have been mightier 
than all the systems of the schools united, whether 
as taught or learned in the lecture-room, or wrapped in 

7 ^ 


154 


THE HALLIG. 


the dark mystical language of metaphysics, he has 
spoken far more powerfully and more effectually against 
it. He always testified that he spoke not of himself, 
but only declared what God had given him to declare. 
But as to the errors which philosophy combats, you 
must yourself admit — and the contending philosophical 
theories sufficiently prove this — that in her conflict with 
these, she has not yet discovered the truth herself, and 
that she often conjures up new falsehoods which would 
be more pernicious than those she is attacking, if the 
poison did not find its antidote in the unintelligible dia- 
lect of the spiritual poison- vender. You have already 
confessed that to you, philosophy has not been able to 
bring peace, and that, so far as you are concerned at 
least, she has failed of her aim.^' 

^^It is precisely which depresses me so much,"^ 
said Mander. I can not sleep away life, burying my- 
self like a mole in the earth. A restless force is continu- 
ally driving me out of these merely temporal concerns, 
tliese surfeiting sensual enjoyments, these inferior cares, 
to sigh, and ask anew. What is truth ? again to look up- 
ward, and long for the light which, like an ignis fatmcSy 
leads me into by-paths — for the peace which beckons, 
and yet flies from me."" 

Then throw away at once your knowledge and your 
doubts,"" said Hold, with zeal. Away with the old 
inquiries and speculations ! Offer once more to the 
Great Father in Heaven a childlike, open heart, that 
desires nothing but to receive. Eise once more, with a 
free soul, from the pit into which you have fallen, and 
be not ashamed of prayers and tears ! Then truly you 
shall find that Heaven sees and pities the seeking, long- 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 155 

ing, human heart ; that the dew of Heaven still falls on 
the mountain of Sion ! Believe me^ my friend^ we have 
only to keep at a distance whatever hinders and im- 
pedes ; we must not put a glass over the flower, and 
then expect it to be refreshed by dew of its own evap- 
oration. No ; let us place the plant under the open 
sky of heaven, and then it will not lack refreshment."" 

Mander was struck by the enthusiastic language of 
the pastor ; a tear trembled in his eye ; and his emo- 
tion was still further increased by the interest of the 
pastor"s wife who pressed her husband"s hand with a 
look of affectionate approval. He could not immedi- 
ately answer, and the lady filled the pause by saying. 

It can never be so easy for man, as it is for our sex, 
to forget himself and his knowledge, and force the ac- 
tivity of his intellect into subjection to the receptivity 
of his heart."" 

Believe me,"" said Mander, I have never been en- 
tirely a stranger to hours in which every doubt and 
every question was silenced by religious feeling ; and I 
have never ceased to cherish them as the consecrated 
moments of my life, and to long for their return. But 
precisely because they have only been holiday moments 
in life"s long work-day — only aurora beams of the night, 
not the morning red of a bright future — it is this which 
saddens me, even makes me distrust them. How then 
can those dim, vague feelings, which we can neither 
direct nor arrange, which rather, like some extraneous 
influence, carry us out of ourselves — how can they pos- 
sibly give us a conception of God which will satisfy our 
calm contemplation 

Hold"s reply was. 


156 


THE IIALLIG. 


Why do you give the name of feeling to that which 
has so moved you at such periods ? I would rather call 
it a sermon of Pentecost^ which the Lord of heaven and 
earthy in his mercy, sends to your weak faith. The 
word feeling implies, beforehand, the idea of obscurity, 
uncertainty, and instability ; we think of it as some- 
thing belonging to ourselves, even something sensuous. 
But you must remember what I have already said with 
regard to the language in which God has chosen to re- 
veal himself. Eegard this religious excitement, this de- 
vout solemnity within, as the voice of God, as you have 
yourself compared its effect to that of some external in- 
fluence, and you will give it more confidence. AVhen 
the breast swells as if heaved by a fresh breath of life, 
when the frame trembles as if that too felt the presence 
of Divinity ; when heartfelt tears gush from the eyes ; 
when the soul is inundated by emotions in which she 
feels herself so happy ; when the spirit breathes freely 
and purely as if relieved from every bond and fetter — 
why will we in such moments refuse to acknowledge — 
deny that the Lord speaks ? How then shall the eter- 
nal spirit manifest itself to the finite soul except by 
taking it up into itself ? By this means it triumphs 
over its clay covering, and generates emotions otherwise 
foreign to the finite. The ambiguous expression, relig- 
ious feeling j deprives this nearness and energy of the 
Holy Spirit of all its worth for us, and of its influence 
in illuminating, sanctifying, and blessing.^^ 

May not this devotional excitement and elevation be 
a mere delusion, the consequence of some preconceived 
idea of God, some false notion perhaps which we have 
bjought with us from our childhood 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 157 

Is it the work of man/^ answered Hold^ our own 
work^ which at such moments lifts us far, above all 
our former sensations and emotions ? We can beget 
only what is like ourselves ; we can only elevate our 
selves in degree ; we can only advance on the same 
road ; we can not overleap the gulf — we can not cre- 
ate something new. But I ask you^ I ask every one 
who has experienced similar periods of devotion, whether 
he was not an entirely difterent being from what he 
had been before ? Whether the old man did not 
fall oft' like a garment, and a new one spring up in 
him so that he became another creature full of light 
and life, until the former darkness again came over 
him, and he recognized himself in the old garb ? But 
who, save the Almighty Creator, could call forth such 
a new creature 

Admitting all this,'" said Mander, here is no ques- 
tion answered. Even with very imperfect religious con- 
ceptions, such periods of devotional elevation are not 
wanting. They may be perhaps a revelation of the 
Godhead, but a revelation by which no knowledge of God 
is gained." 

There is at least joy, peace, and blessedness gained 
for the moment, and the certainty that God has an ac- 
cess to the human heart which is not, like our way to 
him, filled up with stones of stumbling. The confi- 
dence is gained that he will not leave his child in error 
and blindness, in the dust, but that he will give him 
of his fullness what is needful for him to know, that 
he may not lack the power of receiving the gift of his 
Holy Spirit by which he may be called to carry the fruit 
of these consecrated hours into his ordinary life. Yes, 


158 


THE HALLIG. 


what we know of him, must be his own free gift, not 
the doubtful hesitating deceptive result of our research/^ 

But is not reason, too, the gift of God said Man- 
der. And, if we use it as a means of making our- 
selves acquainted with him, we too draw all our knowl- 
edge of Divine things, if less directly, from the same 
source as the believers in revelation/^ 

Our eyes have to thank the light of day for the 
power of vision,'" said Hold ; but if they obstinately 
gaze into the sun, then they must shrink back blinded. 
It seems to have been especially reserved for our time 
to deny the fact of a revelation from God to man above 
the limits of human reason. We find the declaration 
^ Thus saith the Lord 1" in every religion upon earth. 
Will you object to me that this comes from the fact 
that the uncultivated reason is astonished at her own 
triumphs, and dares not attribute the honor to herself, 
or that the solitary sages felt obliged to lay claim to 
Divine authority, in order more effectually to lead the 
blind ? Then I may answer with equal probability, 
that it comes from this : man knew that he had received 
a divine revelation. But why are we talking of these 
things ? . Is it not because you have traveled through 
the heights, and the depths, the length and breadth of 
the realms of reason, and now come and inquire : What 
is truth .P" 

But do not many walk the same way in peace, 
firmly adhering to the religion of reason 

Do you call these vague ideas of God, freedom of 
the will and immortality, the religion of reason ? You 
must remember that it is not yet proved that these 
ideas are the gifts of reason, and not rather a theft from 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 159 

revelation itself. And whence then comes the peace 
of these many ? From this, because they seek no nour- 
ishment beyond this gathered crumb ; or because they anx- 
iously hold in check their reason, that is striving to escape 
from that twilight, as if it were a spirited horse, which, 
in rushing forward, might dash his rider over a preci- 
pice. How often do we hear the remark — This is a sub- 
ject not to be examined further except at the expense 
of reason, as there are examples enough in the mad 
houses to prove ? Just heaven ! am I not to think 
upon the link which binds me to communion with the 
Eternal ? upon the light by which I am to walk while 
on earth in the way of the children of God ? upon the 
bridge which is to conduct me over time's destruction 
and death's decay, to a blessed eternity ? Am I to 
shrink from reflecting upon these things ? Shall I fear 
to look boldly into them ? Shall I timidly draw back 
at the prospect of more light ? Where the worship of 
God in sjDirit and in truth is concerned, where my own 
being, my confidence in life and death, my salvation in 
time and eternity, is at stake — am I there to take as a 
warning the fate of the fly whose wings are scorched 
by the flame that attracts it 

But is not this often, in fact, the fate of those who 
inquire too deeply asked Mander. If they have 
not discovered it themselves in their passion for some 
brilliant systems, still it shows itself in their own change 
of doctrine, in the contradictions which are apparent in 
them, in the trifling influence of their wisdom which 
lives feebly on in a few disciples, and even in them as- 
sumes quite a different form from that in which she 
sprang, Minerva-like, from the head of her master." 


160 


THE II ALL I G. 


What need have we of further witnesses said 
Hold ; have we not come to the necessity of a divine 
revelation 

This conversation might have lasted much longer if 
Oswald had not come in to attend his father home, as 
it was already late. The pastor's wife declared that she 
was not sorry to have this conversation postponed, as 
she could not resist the inclination to listen, and yet 
was conscious of a chilling effect upon her heart. 

Oswald said, smiling : 

My father is certainly likely to he converted by 
you, Mr. Hold. But before I could bow my knee to 
Balaam's ass, my hair must be as gray as the donkey's." 

His father gave him a look of disapprobation, and 
would probably have severely reprimanded his unseemly 
jest if the pastor had not answered hastily, 

^^You must pardon a little rudeness in your son. 
He is only returning, in his way, what he received from 
me at our last interview, in mine. But for your sake," 
continued he, turning toward Oswald, who, though smil- 
ing, reddened slightly at the allusion, for your sake, 
I would wish that your hair should soon be as gray as 
you think necessary before you can bow the knee, if 
not to Balaam's ass, at least to Him whom a similar 
animal bore, when he entered into Jerusalem to bring 
no constrained, but a free-will blessing, not to one, but 
to all." 

Pardon me, my dear sir," said Oswald, ^^if I ex- 
pressed myself rudely. Bufc it has always been incom- 
prehensible to me how reasonable men can help finding 
insuperable difficulties in sucli narratives as the one to 
which I alluded in the so-called word of God." 


PHILOSOPHY FALSELY SO CALLED. 161 

Hold replied^ ^^Do you regard the sayings ^ Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God with all thy hearty with all thy 
soul^ and with all thy mind and this other, ^ What- 
soever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, 
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, 
whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of 
good report ; if there he any virtue, if there be any 
praise, think on these things do you regard these as 
good, pure doctrines 
^Wes, certainly."" 

Then do as they command. What would you say 
of a man who should pass by a table richly loaded with 
choice food, because he observed a dish which he did 
not relish ^ 

I would take good care not to call him a fool,"" said 
Oswald, for fear you might send me at once to the 
mad-house, by the extra-post of my own words. But 
you must admit that your ingenious question is an eva- 
sion, not an answer."" 

Let me stick to my comparison,"" continued the 
pastor. The guest who seats himself at the table 
prepared for him, and who satisfies his hunger and thirst 
with food and drink which he can not help praising, 
might be allowed to ask about a dish which seemed to 
him tasteless. But he who despised all on account of 
that one dish has no right to inquire."" 

You have me there,"" said Oswald, and took leave 
with his father. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE DISAP’POIKTMENT. 

Wouldst thou receive! then gim^ as price! 
Within thyself dost thou retire? 

Behold thy looked-for joys expire I 
Life only pays for sacrifice. 

Thou wave-rocked child, of ocean born ! 

Poor islet on a stormy sea! 

Thy sod from earth’s broad kingdom torn! 
Thou art my home ! my joy ’s in thee ! 

No waving forest hems thee round ; 

No rocky girdle holds thee fast; 

Only the watery waste profound, 

With heaven’s broad curtain o’er thee cast. 

Thy meager landscape lieth bare 
Beneath the source of light intense ; 

And ’gainst the elemental war. 

Thou hast no weapon, no defense. 

Peace in thy humble huts doth live 
Thy riches are thy poverty; 

And simple manners aye survive 
From sire to son, unchanged, in thee. 

Virtue and piety remain 
Guests at the fireside of the poor; 

None envies here another’s gain — 

No heart, impatient, asks for more. 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


163 


Thou wave-rocked child, of ocean horn! 

Poor islet on a stormy seal 
Though man may pass thee by in scorn, 

An angel loves to dwell with thee. 

Godber found these verses on a slip of paper that 
was used as a mark in one of the hooks which Hold had 
lent Mander. This simple song must have moved him 
powerfully, as the sentiment seemed to be taken from 
his own heart. He could scarcely read it without tears, 
and would gladly have expressed his thanks to the pas- 
tor who alone could have composed it, had not his pres- 
ence always inspired him with a sort of timidity. The 
concluding line, 

“An angel loves to dwell with thee,” 

he referred to Idalia, and she was pleased with this, as 
his love really made the place pleasant to her, and she 
knew that her stay on the hallig could not now last 
much longer. She could also enter into his views of 
their future life together on his native island, so far as 
to conceal from him for a long time the fact that she 
saw only dreams in these pictures of a contented, world- 
renouncing happiness. Had she for a moment sup- 
posed that Godber would hesitate, in the least, as to 
the choice between the loss of her or the leaving of his 
home she would have drawn hack from him with pride, 
even with contempt, although perhaps with a wound 
in her heart. If she felt herself happier, here on this 
naked waste, than she had ever done in the gay world, 
she referred this happiness in no way to the miserable 
sod, but to her love for the young man whom she be- 
lieved indifferent to every thing on earth but herself. 


164 


THE HALLia. 


If she was pleased with her present mode of life^ it was 
only the momentary charm of novelty^ of something 
which was certainly different from all the former asso- 
ciations, and the attraction of domestic duties. For 
the amusement of a few weeks such an existence was 
well enough — might even serve as a substitute for a 
new watering-place ; hut to remain forever on this 
island whose inhabitants must renounce all the enjoy- 
ments of life, where life itself was always in danger, 
that was a thought so far from her that she could not 
suppose it to he even in the mind of another to whom 
a choice of something better was possible, especially, if 
to this were to be added all that love, wealth, and in- 
tercourse with the world can offer. 

But if we were to suppose Godber capable of giving 
up his sea-washed home for any such prospect, we 
should have sketched in him no true son of the hallig. 

The author has seen the hallig, which is the scene of 
our story, when half the houses were heaped up in ruins 
on the dikes of the mainland, and of the other half 
only the bare frame-work' and roofs remained to show 
that they had once been inhabited — when only a single 
cabin stood on its washed and crumbling wharf, suffi- 
ciently firm to serve as a refuge for those of the inhab- 
itants who had escaped death — when the adjoining 
island presented nothing but a naked flat from which 
mounds, houses, flocks, and men, had been swept off in 
a single night, without leaving a trace of their former 
existence. He has seen those to whom life seemed 
scarcely a desirable gift, in the midst of this awful des- 
olation, in which they had lost every thing, while the 
recollection of the terrors of that fearful night was still 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


165 


fresh, with all the impression that cold, hunger, and 
wet clothing, could make upon the mind through the 
body ; he has talked with them^ under these circum- 
stances ; he has represented to them that the next night 
might complete the destruction by overwhelming all 
who were left, and yet he was able to persuade only 
two persons — and these so very old and infirm that they 
could not raise a roof beneath which to shelter them- 
selves — to seek a more safe asylum. All the rest re- 
mained, and built again, as the truly Christian charity 
of the high and low, the rich and poor, on the mainland, 
gave them means to do- — on the same soil so dear to 
them. They might have lived wherever they wished, so 
abundant was the relief afforded them ; but they were 
quite sure they should die of home-sickness, even in the 
most favored situation. They expressed very decidedly, 
the wish that their pastor would always remain with 
them ; and in their love for their home, they did not 
suppose they were asking any sacrifice which would re- 
quire a struggle ; for to them, after the late terrible 
experience, a hallig was sufficient to satisfy every de- 
sire. 

We have been obliged to speak of this here, that the 
reader may comprehend how it could be so far from 
Godber^s thoughts to leave the island again, and how 
he could fiatter himself that Idalia would willingly share 
such a home with him. This illusion could not last 
long ; and Oswald was the first to open the eyes of the 
dreamer. 

If one could only bring a horse over here said he 
one day at table. They get on so slowly with the un- 
lading. If we are to be as long re-loading as we have 


166 


THE HALLia. 


been in getting the cargo out of the wreck, winter will 
come and swaddle us in ice and snow, with this ‘ wave- 
rocked child of ocean born," till spring. Besides, it would 
give my future brother-in-law a chance to practice the 
art of riding."" Skill in riding is quite unnecessary 
here,"" replied Godber ; and here I would live, and here 
die, by the side of Idalia."" 

Oswald looked with astonishment now at him, now at 
Idalia, who could not find in Godber"s tone the jest 
which was certainly intended by his words. 

Idalia here !"" exclaimed Oswald, when he found 
words to express his wonder. Here, on this solitary 
turnip, which is rolling about in Neptune"s big kettle ! 
this amphibium which one knows not whether to call a 
land animal or a turbot ! Here, in this room painted 
heavenly blue and purple red ! Here, with the eternal 
tea-kettle and its near relations, sheep"s-milk cheese and 
black bread ! Here, Idalia princess of the ball-room ! 
queen of the kingdom of hearts ! the hope and despair 
of a hundred suitors ! the undisputed leader in the cir- 
cles of fashion ! that"s a precious idea of yours, Godber, 
that I shall not have done laughing at for a week."" 

Godber turned from him, coloring with vexation ; 
and taking Idalia"s hand with confidence, repeated to 
her, with the tenderest expression, the words from her 
own song : 

“ Is there any region 

Where thy potent will 
Could not place thy creature — 

There held captive still?” 

It was doubtful whether he intended by this to express 
his willingness to follow her wherever she desired, or 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


167 


whether he intended to infer her sentiments from her 
own words. He thought he was reading in her very soul, 
as he was making use of her own language which had so 
often delighted him^ as a confirmation of his highest 
hopes. But she — whether entirely without suspicion 
that it was contrary to his meaning we will not decide — • 
chose to consider the words as the language of his own 
heart, and without precisely saying as much, she answered, 

Our mutual affection will make any place on earth 
a pleasant home to us — to me as well as to you'' The 
decided emphasis placed on the words as well as to 
you,^^ struck his heart as if with a painful blow ; a deep 
red mounted to his cheek, and with a question on his 
lips, he fixed a long and earnest look on Idalia. But 
the words remained unspoken, as if in fearful anticipa- 
tion of the wounding reply they might receive. She 
bore this inquiring gaze with a smile, and a slight 
touch of his lips with her finger, comjffetely checked 
the question. But Oswald was not disposed to let this 
conversation drop so suddenly. 

That sounds like a pastoral,^^ said ho gayly, and 
certainly I should have nothing to say against it — al- 
though I am no Myrtillus myself, and never sued to any 
Daphne — if it were any other place than a hallig, which 
would scarcely be habitable for a pair of loving seals/^ 
Mander, who, till now, had listened to the conversa- 
tion as mere pleasantry, reminded his son that they had 
no occasion to speak contemptuously of this island to 
which, by the help of God, through Godber^s courage 
and skill, they owed their lives, and where peace, vainly 
sought by thousands in great cities, seemed to dwell with 
all its inhabitants from the cradle to the grave. 


168 


THE HALLIG. 


Godber caught joyfully at this ]3raise of his birth- 
place. Is it not so ?” cried he ; is not our life de- 
lightful ? These numerous privations^ this isolation 
from the worlds this want of outward attraction, throw 
man back again upon himself, and teach him to find 
within his own breast, in his little domestic circle, the 
happiness which is the more enduring because it is in- 
dependent of external things, and has its root, as well 
as its nourishment, in man himself Even the dangers 
which are connected with a residence here serve to keep 
alive in us the childlike, humble, trusting spirit from 
which proceed faith, confidence, and a cheerful depend- 
ence on our Father in heaven. Here, man is once more 
man, having stripped off the gay trappings which are, 
after all, rather a care than a pleasure to him. Here, 
he is free from the chains which conventionality has 
forged for him by a thousand habits and necessities 
which his heart does not know, and does not need, in 
order to be happy ; which even he himself has only too 
often felt to be fetters, without having the courage to 
shake them off before the world. Here he is himself j 
not what custom makes him, not what others require 
him to be. Here, he may rejoice and weep, work and 
rest, love and shun, where, how, and whom he will. He 
has no master but himself, and there is no man to call 
him to account. Not for all the treasures of the earth, 
would I again willingly come under the yoke of this 
perverted world, which cries ^ Peace, peace, and there 
is no j)eace,' where there is nothing but disunion and 
distrust, struggling and straining for a goal which lies 
far behind, which runs blindfold after its own pleasure, 
and finds only disgust, fatigue, and satiety without en- 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


169 


joyment ; which reaches the poisoned chalice with the 
sweetest smile, and, at the same time, nnconsciously 
mingles the venom in her own cup/^ 

And would you not even follow me into this per- 
verted world said Idalia, with an affectionate glance, 
while Mander and Oswald laughed at this dreadful pic- 
ture of their world. 

You V' cried Godber, as if struck by a sudden flash 
— but calming himself, he added immediately, ^Gt is 
because your pure brightness has not been dimmed by 
this former intercourse ; because though nursed in its 
midst you have preserved your chaste feeling for true 
happiness, of which the world knows nothing ; it is for 
this that my soul is so chained to you, that you are to 
me a priceless peark"' 

Idalia could not, at once, find an answer to these 
words, and her expression, in which surprise and em- 
barrassment were visible, threw an icy chill over God- 
ber^s enthusiasm. But Oswald said with tragi-comic 
pathos : 

Farewell, Idalia : I bow myself in profound admir- 
ation before the future heroine of the green bodice and 
striped petticoat ; but, for your fame’s sake, I must 
leave you. I will go, a winged messenger, into the 
mourning circles of your native town, to bear the news 
of your blessed martyrdom on this sea-embosomed altar 
of love. Your name shall shine among those constel- 
lations, grown somewhat pale of late, which are sacred 
to all-conquering love. Every week I will send you 
over, post-free, a hundred harmonious sonnets and fifty 
ambitious odes from the lips of poor broken-hearted 
poets, in honor of your world-despising heart. You 

8 


170 


THE HALLIG. 


shall be a burning coal to every girl who has not the 
courage to follow your example. 

‘ A little hut on a little sod, 

A husband and a little dog, 

Some sorry sheep with wool like hair, 

Black bread and tea for daily fare ; 

Whose fancy adds to the above, 

Knows • nothing of Idaha’s love I’” 

Idalia remarked, that if her worthy brother should 
hereafter condescend to make verses upon her himself, 
she hoped they -would be more refined and polished, 
both as to manner and matter. But at the same time 
she laughed at Oswald's jests, and the pain which God- 
ber felt at this repressed his rising anger, and he choked 
back the bitter answer which rose to his lips. Mander 
saw that he was pale and trembling, and said to him 
kindly, 

Our friend here does not take pleasantry so readily 
as he uses it and then added, gravely, ^4br myself I 
can never speak contemptuously of a place which was 
once so welcome to us. It would be hard for Godber to 
leave his home, for the love of it seems to become sec- 
ond nature to all who were born here. But he is, at 
the same time, too reasonable not to suppose Idalia to 
have her local attachments as well, and, therefore, he 
will not expect from her, a sacrifice which he finds him- 
self incapable of making ; especially when he must 
confess that to give the hallig the preference to Ham- 
burg, would be possible only for a native of the island." 

Godber was deeply agitated by these remarks. It 
had never entered his mind that, happy as he now felt 
himself on his hallig, perhaps Idalia could only find 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


171 


contentment in her native city ; that he had no more 
right to insist on the necessity of being an islander, 
than she of being a town lady. If he felt that, even 
at her side, he should pine with home-sickness in the 
great world, how could he complain of her, if she were 
to suffer from the same with him, on the hallig. These 
reflections kept him silent. A deep melancholy lay 
like a weight upon his heart. He became lost in 
thoughts which now and then directed themselves to- 
ward Maria, and awakened a feeling not unlike re- 
morse. 

Oswald broke the embarrassing pause by raising his 
glass to drink, to their happy meeting in Hamburg. 
Grodber took up mechanically his glass, touched it to 
Oswald^s, but set it down without drinking. 

From this day there was a certain distance between 
the lovers. Idalia was more serious, thoughtful, and 
reserved, and, although she did not doubt that Godber 
would give up his whim, still it was disagreeable to her 
that he had ever conceived it, above all, that he should 
not dismiss it at once, as soon as he perceived her dis- 
inclination to this life. He, on the other hand, was 
much grieved, but at the same time so submissive, so 
attentive, so careful to show her the most entire devo- 
tion, as if he still cherished a secret hope of inducing 
her to make the sacrifice upon which the happiness of 
his life depended. Both avoided making the slightest 
allusion to the difference between them as to their 
hopes of the future. 

The orphan Maria had, in the mean time, been re- 
ceived into the pastor's family, and, in this way, was 
brought nearer to Godber's house. They could not now 


172 


THE UAL LI a. 


fail to see eacli other more frequently, even if only at a 
distance. It sometimes happened, too, that they neces- 
sarily came near and were even obliged to pass each 
other, however much they might seek to avoid such oc- 
casions. One day they met accidentally near the little 
foot-bridge, having walked on, lost in thought, without 
either observing the other till it was too late to avoid 
speaking. They stood before each other ; the eyes of 
both fell to the ground. Maria laid her hand on her 
oppressed heart. Godber’s lips trembled, unable to 
utter a syllable. At last he took her hand and said, 
faintly, 

Maria, it was to be so V’ 

She looked up, and a tear trembled in her eye. 

The Lord has so willed it V sighed she. May He 
make you happy 

And you, Maria V’ he replied. 

She turned her face toward heaven, and a light 
seemed to break through her tears. 

His strength is powerful in the weak.""^ 

Maria,'^ cried Godber, grasping her hand more firm- 
ly, can you forgive me 

When I took the ring from your finger,'' replied 
she, then I forgave you." 

Godber dropped her hand, and looked for the ring. 
For the first time, he saw that it was missing. He 
gazed at the finger on which he had worn it, and, un- 
able to comprehend how this pledge had been taken 
from him, it seemed to him as if his faithlessness was 
now first complete — as if now, all return was impossi- 
ble. He would have given much at this moment to 
have seen the ring still there ; he would have given it 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


173 


lip for no price. The thought that he had it no longer, 
seemed to open a gulf before him, which separated him 
forever from Maria. Now she was first lost to him, 
irrecoverably lost, as if they had not been already long 
parted ! When he looked up again, Maria was gone. 

Idalia had seen this meeting from a distance, and 
without making the least allusion to it, she grew colder 
and more reserved toward Godber. But his affections 
clung to her more and more closely. She was the an- 
chor that must hold him fast in the strife of his con- 
tending feelings, in the struggle of his conflicting 
thoughts. He felt that if she gave him up, the strength 
of his life would be broken, that then his conscience 
would tell him why it was so, and that he should, ever 
after, be tossed on a sea of self-reproach. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE SEARCH FOB TRUTH, 

Light and life are of God’s giving; 

Peace, the offering of his love ; 

And the heavenly host appearing, 

Tread no ladder of thy rearing; 

They have lowered it from above. 

Maxder might perhaps have observed the lovers 
more attentively, and have seen that his duty as a 
father required him to dissolve a connection which, 
from the entire want of unison in their hopes and 
wishes for the future, could not fail to end in misery, 
had he not been at this time especially occupied with 
himself. He no longer hoped to raise the ladder to 
heaven, neither was his mind yet prepared to admit 
that God, in his mercy and love, had long since low- 
ered it down to us. 

How can you suppose,"" said he, in one of his con- 
versations with the pastor on the subject of revelation, 
that God, who rules more worlds than the age of our 
earth counts seconds, the ocean drops, or the desert 
sand-grains — that this God should do so great things 
for this puny race of men, whose mightiest intellects — 
not to speak of its poor potentates — are like motes that 
play in the sunbeams ?"" 


THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 


175 


^^And whose great and even little intellects/' added 
Hold, fancy they can limit and define this Being 
whom they were created to worship, and assign to him 
his place in their systems of the universe." 

Let us leave them," interrupted Mander. I per- 
ceive that here, on this little flat, with the heaven so 
wide above it, the sea so broad around it, and almost 
without an object to remind one of the feeble works of 
man, that here the heart grows larger, and that thought 
will no longer permit itself to be bridled and held in 
check by abstract ideas and logical conclusions, but 
soars freely outward, toward eternity. As I was sit- 
ting, last evening, on the broken font in the old church- 
yard, and saw only the sea around, and the starry 
heavens above, it seemed to me as if I, too, were float- 
ing in the ocean of the universe, myself a little world, 
moved by the breath of God, sustained by his power, 
illuminated by his Spirit, peaceful and happy as the 
other stars, worshiping, like them, the Creator, the Up- 
holder, and the Governor of all ; and I still feel as if, 
having been once so rich, I could never again be so poor 
in faith and in the joy of believing as before." 

May, then," said Hold, as if in benediction, may 
then, the morning-star *which has arisen in your heart 
shine there forever. Must he not be a God of love, 
who gives such hours to men ? Shall we deny that in 
such sacred moments, the Lord himself speaks ? deny 
it, because our tongues have no power to repeat His 
words ? But you inquired why God should do such 
great things for insignificant man as to reveal himself 
to him, in his majesty, to bring him light in his dark- 
ness, peace in his warfare, in such a way as the Gospel 


176 


THE II ALL I G. 


declares him to have clone through Jesus Christ. I 
go still further. I call man not only insignificant, 
weak, helpless, ephemeral, hut self-blinded, and stained 
with sin. There is none, no not one, who is found just 
before God. Our hearts are stained with unholy de- 
sires, and in our lives we are indifierent to the truth, 
and disobedient to God's commands. Every thought 
of God, the holy and just Judge of all, should be a 
confession, a prayer for mercy, from which all confi- 
dence in our own merits and our own righteousness 
must be banished. Not only then for a puny creature, 
standing on a little point of God's vast universe, but 
also for a self-ruined, and daily self-ruining race, hath 
God done so great things — for such is his love ! And 
if on this earth there had been but a single soul, in- 
stead of all these millions, capable of receiving his call 
and his blessing, for this single soul would he have 
moved heaven and earth in their axes to draw it back 
to its Father's heart, for such is his love ! And, even 
if this soul were to have • fallen seventy times seven 
times back into its darkness and ruin, he would seventy 
times seven times have moved heaven and earth to 
bring it again to the kingdom of righteousness, joy and 
peace, for such is his love ! We speak of his omnipo- 
tence and his omniscience which fill immensity with 
their witness ; we see the smallest worm of the dust as 
delicately and artistically framed, and as little forgot- 
ten of God, as the seraph whose hallelujah resounds 
through heaven ; and shall not the love of God be as 
perfect as all his other attributes ? Shall that know 
limitation, confinement, restraint, when his power and 
his wisdom know none ? It can and ought never to be 


THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 


17T 


asked whether God could be so merciful as the Gospel 
asserts in the doctrine of a Eedeemer ? For that is a 
question which denies him perfection — perfection in 
the most glorious attribute in heaven or earth — ^love. 
The only question is, was it needful for man for the 
healing of his soul, for his peace in life and death, that 
God should reveal himself as the way, the truth and 
the life, as Saviour, Mediator, Eedeemer, and Prince of 
Peace ? Man must answer this question in the affirm- 
ative, when he has faithfully examined his conscience, 
himself and his life; when he has learned to disdain and 
despise all half-way courses, all lukewarmness in thought 
and deed, then he may with a bold hand grasp at the 
cloud, then he can joyfully admit ^ that God so loved 
the world.^ Then will he no more ask how can such 
things be ? For as the being of God is far above hu- 
man knowledge and understanding why should not the 
love of God be above his knowledge and understanding 
as well 

You have a faith strong enough to remove mount- 
ains,"’ said Mander, with emotion. 

Would that it were so,” replied Hold; ^^then we 
would soon be of the same faith.” 

I would willingly inquire what I shall do to inherit 
eternal life,” said Mander, speaking rather to himself 
than to the pastor. 

Ask the Scripture which testifies of Christ. First 
of all, consider carefully the law. Try your life and 
conduct, with unsparing severity, by the commands of 
God, and by the example of our Lord. Excuse not 
yourself for any sin on the plea of weakness ; for any 
impurity on the ground of natural impulse ; attribute 

8 * 


178 


THE HALLIG. 


no fall to irresistible temptation ; soothe not your con- 
science by a comparison of yourself with others. But 
do not imagine that the love of God is, like man's 
sickly affection, indulgent, flattering, forgetful ; it is a 
love which goes hand in hand with the sternest justice, 
and is illuminated by the lightning of his judgments, 
which must prostrate in the dust, and sweep from us, 
our virtue and our honor like chaff, that we may learn 
to fear before him who will demand an account for 
eveiy idle word which has proceeded from our mouths ; 
and our souls, little as we may now think it either 
needful or possible, must tremble in repentance and 
grief, before the light and the judgments of the Divine 
law. Only through sorrow can we come to joy ! Only 
through judgment, to mercy ! Only through conflict 
to peace ! Only through death to life ! Only the lowly 
shall be lifted up, and the humble accepted ! As long 
as we esteem ourselves something before God, we are 
nothing, and can become and inherit nothing. But 
such a saving penitence is not to be preached into us. 
It must come from above, as the gift of love, the grace 
of God. My words can only advise, can only assault 
the opposing bulwark, only knock at the doors of your 
heart, that you may open the more readily, when the 
Lord himself shall come to judgment. Go, in some 
solitary hour, and try this path' of thorns." 

And is it, then, through this thorny path that you, 
too, have attained to the joy of believing asked Man- 
der, gently. 

I tread this jrath daily," said Hold, and yet am 
happy, and blessed in the Lord." 

That is wonderful." 


THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 


179 


Not so wonderful as the union of divine pardoning 
love and unbending justice. Not so wonderful as Christ's 
shrinking before the cross^, and yet voluntarily submit- 
ting to it. But I can give you no* explanation of it^ till 
you have reached a certain point — which I must require 
of you^ which God requires of you^ since he has him- 
self brought you so near the same — if indeed you should 
then ask for an explanation." 

It was^ however^ by no means easy to bring Mander 
into that path of thorns^ where his self-satisfaction was 
sure to be wounded. Many evenings were passed in ani- 
mated conversation, in v/hich the pastor especially com- 
batted Mander's inclination to build up for himself a 
sort of philosophical Christianity. 

But are not all the materials for that purpose fur- 
nished by the Scriptures, as in all the other evidences 
of Deity said Mander, by way of defence. 

Materials more than enough," rejDlied Hold ; but 
the mortar is wanting. The heart's blood, which flows 
from repentance, and the tears which gush forth through 
longing for peace, such as the world and the world's 
wisdom can never know. You are likely to fail, because 
you commence by trying to fit the materials together, 
before the idea of the whole edifice, in its length and 
breadth, exists clearly in your mind." 

But, perhaps the way to faith is not the same for 
all," thought Mander. 

Without humility none can enter there ; and with- 
out a deep, penetrating, self-abasing sense of sinfulness 
before God, without a clear and honest confession of the 
same, wrung forth by sorrow and repentance, there is 
no return for those who, like you, have wandered in the 


180 


THE HALLIG. 


false paths of spiritual self-idolatry. That you would, 
even now, be an architect before you . are yourself truly 
built up, or at least, are living only in the first spring 
of your desire for a saving edification, proves to me suf- 
ficiently that you are still under the bondage of your 
own intellect, and are not yet brought into the freedom 
of the children of God, whose faith is no Doric or 
Corinthian structure, but a bold column, shooting up- 
ward, whose base has its foundation in the depths of 
the heart, and whose capital is crowned by the rainbow 
of promise.^^ 

A firmer foundation, certainly, could be no injury 
to faith,"" interposed Mander; ^Svould even make it ac- 
ceptable to* reason, so that she might unite with the 
heart which has need of her."" 

Now ^ faith is the substance of things hoped for, the 
evidence of things not seen," says the Apostle,"" was 
Hold"s answer. In this expression, ^ things not seen," 
is included all which reason does not embrace in her ab- 
stract ideas and conclusions ; for what she so chains to- 
gether, link upon link, that she sees^ and that ceases to 
be an object of faith ; it then becomes a thing known, 
and remains a patch- work, as is all our knowledge. But 
faith is a complete, perfect whole ; a day without a 
cloud, a jewel over which we rejoice without fear of 
thieves or robbers. It is no spoil, but a gift. We do 
not make it ; but it makes us. It is not ours ; but we 
belong to it. We do not obtain it by drawing it down 
to us, but are lifted up by it into its own sphere. There- 
fore you build in vain at your edifice ; it remains but a 
bare frame-w^ork, through whose open timbers every 


THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 


181 


wind blows^ and in which the Spirit of God will never 
take up its abode."" 

But do not learned theologians aim to do precisely 
what I would wish to do 

Unfortunately they often aim at nothing else. For 
that reason it not unfrequently happens that their hear- 
ers/" said Hold, come to the same conclusions about 
them as I once did"" — and he took from the shelf a 
note-book which had belonged to his student-life, and 
on a leaf of which was the following epilogue : 

TO POSITIVE DIVINITY. 

So then, 0 knowledge, was a lying boast 
That to the blinded soul thou couldst give light I 
And now the last, last ray is vanished quite. 

And the mocked heart its hope of peace hath lost. 

Behold me borne far out into a sea 
Where no mysterious needle guides my bark, 

Where never lead an anchorage doth mark. 

And o’er whose billowy waste the winds blow free. 

One pilot cries “ To left I” and one “ To right I 

See there, the home lights beaming full in sight I” 

“ No I there's a sunken reef ; here, follow me I” 

Lo, with a smile the third exclaims, “ Take either;” 

A fourth, with angry tone, shouts “No, take neither!” 
Meanwhile my foundering bark is sinking in the sea. 

may be bad enough,"" said Mander, be a 
leader when one is still standing in uncertainty on the 
cross-way.' But it is wiser first to place the ladder 
firmly, and try it step by step, than to wait till the 
upper round is reached, before examining its position, 
and testing the strength of its steps."" 


182 


THE HALLia. 


Of such a trial/^ said Hold, faith has no need. It 
requires no ladder. It is an eagle whose wings bear him 
far above the clouds. It does not become ; it already 
is. It does not grow by degrees, but stands forth at 
once in all its glory. A weak, lukewarm faith is a non- 
entity. It may indeed yield at times in the hour of 
trial, or to the temptations of a corrupt heart, and of 
worldly lusts ; but it knows no composition, no analy- 
sis, no division. It is all, or nothing ; entire, or non- 
existent. There may be compromise in knowledge, will, 
and action, not in faith. It must either bless or con- 
demn ; it can not comfort a little, elevate a little, ter- 
rify a little, cause a little fear, a little trembling. It 
does not contend ; it conquers. It takes possession of 
the heart in its strength, and fills it with its fullness, 
hurls it into the abyss, then brings it triumphantly out 
of the deep and raises it to heavenly heights. From 
these heights we may discover the path of faith, but 
not from below ; with the plummet, not with the 
glass.'' 

Mander was often disposed to charge the pastor with 
one-sided and narrow view^s. On the other hand, in his 
j)ainful struggle after certainty, he w^as often as humble 
and teachable as the youngest disciple. Then he com- 
plained of obscurity in Hold's language, to which the 
latter replied : 

The word is seed, neither more nor less. But in 
the seed, beneath the husk, lies the germ, and waits for 
sun and dew from heaven to burst its shell and become 
flower and fruit." 

Sometimes he complained of the obscurity of divine 
revelation. Hold reminded him — 


THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 183 

That the sun which is to illuminate the various ways 
of divine revelation, is the manifestation of the saving 
grace of God in Christ. If this has arisen on the heart 
in its full splendor, its beams will be shed over all the 
darkness, and every thing will become light. Light 
only proceeds from light. Our modest understanding 
may well teach us not to expect to learn the truth from 
that source. Our sinfulness, indeed, may waken in us a 
longing for the grace of God, but what truth is, we first 
learn from the truth, and redemption we first learn to 
understand from the Redeemer himself. But you strive 
^for both as if you had already examined their nature 
and experienced their power. But that this is not the 
case is ]3roved by your difficulty with certain obscure 
points, for shadows lead us away from the light, and are 
no guides to it, as you must regard them, since you re- 
main so long with them."" 


CHAPTER XV. 


POETKY AND PROSE. 

Of a blissful home of quiet, 

Tar above this wrong and riot, • 

The stars shed witnessing light; 

But the poet’s fire revealeth 
The bright promise it unsealeth, 

And aids in the mortal fight. 


A PROFESSIONAL duty obliged Hold to make an ex- 
cursion to the nearest island which was almost a Ger- 
man mile distant. Oswald went with him^ partly to 
take some measures for the more rapid transportation 
of the rescued cargo to Husum^ and partly, to give a 
little variety to the life of the hallig, which had become 
tedious to him. One fine moonlight evening, a favor- 
able wind bore the boat, with a swan-like motion, toward 
her destination, and Oswald, who had seen this same 
sea in tl\e most fearful agitation, and whose life had 
been in peril there, expressed, again and again, his won- 
der at the contrast. 

To-day so still, floating the vessel onward with 
wavelets scarce perceptible, and when last seen by me 
it x\as itself one huge wave, on which the ship swung 
up and down like a feather which the child blows into 


POETRY AND PROSE. 


185 


the air. To-day the light breeze barely fills the sails^ 
and seems afraid to do more than just what we desire 
— then^ a mad wind raging and howling as if about to 
roll the ship together like a ball and toss it toward the 
sky. We have given so many names to the wind to 
designate its fickle nature, but the sea is still called 
sea, whether it serve us like a timid slave, or sports 
with our lives like a furious tyrant/^ 

Man is called man,""' remarked Hold, whether he 
plays with fioAvers in childish joy, or piles corpse on 
^ corpse in blind passion, and the transition from one to 
the other in the same man is not less surprising than 
the change in the sea, and it is fortunate that the 
stormy waves in our OAvn breasts have for the most part 
little power to do mischief.^' 

It is for this reason,"' said Oswald, that I think 
it best - to take the smooth side of life, and keep the 
blood as cool as possible. Tempests, either of love or 
hate, are no affair of mine. In this Avay I have man- 
aged, so far, to laugh and joke when others grieve them- 
selves to death, or are beside themselves with distress or 
anger. 

^‘So life let us cherish! 

Enjoy what we have ; 

Eefore our frames perish, 

Eorgot in the grave.” 

If you were to pine long years in a dungeon, or 
were, for years, to be stretched on a bed of pain, do 
you think you would then decorate the damp Avails Avith 
these lines, or lull your suffering AAuth such a melody 
inquired Hold. 

I am not prepared to say that," replied Oswald, 


186 


THE HALLIH. 


^^and so I rejoice that I am not exposed to the 
trial/^ 

But why do you not rather aim to secure something 
which will stand even such trials ? Can you regard * 
that as the true philosophy of life, which makes us de- 
pendent on external circumstances beyond our own con- 
trol ? Do you take mica for a gem, because it sparkles 
in the sunshine like a diamond T' 

You are quite right my dear pastor,"^ said Oswald, 
simply because you are pastor ; but wrong for me be- 
cause I sing, 

“ Forgetting is pleasure, 

And thinking is pain; 

Then take for the real, 

What seems the most plain.” 

I can give you another verse,"^ said Hold : 

*‘0 childish resolving! 

0 folly most stark! 

So billows are tossing 
The rudderless bark. 

And these lines remind me to ask you how you 
thought and felt in those hours when you were lately 
struggling between life and death, on these same 
waters."^ 

‘‘ I thought and felt just nothing at all. All thought 
and feeling entirely forsook me. I was a hollow shell, 
into which the kernel returned only after we were safe. 
Of what use would thought and feeling have been to 
me ? They would not have tamed the savage sea, nor 
have held together the fragile boat.^" 

Thinking and feeling would not have helped you^ 


POETRY AND PROSE. 


187 


but it would have been quite different with him^ who, 
in the dangers of the tempest could have said in the 
words of the song, 

“TVho, fighting or falling, 

• Doubts not of success, 

Hath gained a sure triumph, 

Hath won the bride’s yes. 

“She leads to the altar. 

She guideth him home; 

His faith is now seeing. 

His rest-day hath come.” 

will not argue with you my good pastor,^^ an- 
swered Oswald ; I admit, as I said before, that you 
are perfectly right. I respect your opinions and you, 
on account of them. I should rely on your integrity 
and truth, with more confidence than on my own. But, 
I must remain what I am and as I am ; unless, as I 
have half promised, I should become converted to your 
way of thinking when I am gray-headed, in order that 
I may fold my winding-sheet decently about me. Cer- 
tainly my dear sir,^" added Oswald, when he observed 
that the pastor turned away displeased from him as he 
was making the. last remark, I don’t mean to jest, 
though it may sound so ; it is mere empty words, to 
which you must attach no more meaning than belongs 
to them. But we are so wide apart, and take such dif- 
ferent views, that no agreement between us is possible. 
You stand firm on Zion, and I am steering my little 
bark through every flowery brook that will float me !” 

The empty words do not disturb me,” replied Hold, 
but that there should have been an hour in your life. 


188 


THE HAL LI a. 


wlien^ to use your own language, you were but a hollow 
shell, and yet that, after such a confession, you should 
be satisfied to entertain longer such shallow views 
which are, as you say, truly nothing more than mere 
thoughtlessness ; that I can not understand. I fear 
that God will some day lay a still heavier hand upon 
you, or rather, I shall hope that he will."’ 

Then you must pardon me,"" said Oswald, smiling, 
^^that I do not offer you my thanks for your pious 
wish."" 

Hold now turned the conversation upon other sub- 
jects, and as they were both familiar with the little 
poem from which the above stanzas have been quoted, 
poetry now became the topic of their discussion. Here 
they agreed almost entirely. Oswald"s extensive read- 
ing in this department of literature had not injured his 
correct taste, but rather rendered it more discriminat- 
ing. No dazzling imagery bribed him, no poetic 
thought escaped him, for want of the proper dress. Os- 
sian, the bard who knew how to give strength and 
grace to the cloud, was his favorite, and he maintained, 
with Hold"s entire assent, that he must be a critic of 
gross perceptions, who could suppose that Ossian"s 
poems could be the forgery of a later age. The more 
animatedly Oswald spoke, the more he unfolded his ex- 
tensive and varied knowledge of literature, the more he 
separated the shallow from the profound, the artificial 
from genuine inspiration, the greater was Hold"s sur- 
prise that a person of so acute and just a judgment 
could live so thoughtlessly ; that one who could feel so 
truly and so profoundly, should be so insensible to the 
Spirit of God. It was incomprehensible to him how 


poej:ry and pro$e. 


189 


Oswald could live in the poet's loffcy inspiration^ with 
full recognition^ and not he forced to think of himself 
and his own estrangement from every thing divine. It 
seemed as if his fancy bore him aloft with the poet^ but 
he saw in this flight only the course of a balloon which 
descends from its lofty heights, bringing to earth no 
news of heavenly things. But they have eyes and see 
not, ears have they and hear not. 

For the sake of the reader, we insert the poem, some 
verses of which have been introduced above. 

LIFE. 

Beginning, unending; 

No picture, jet vailed; 

A dreaming, and longing 
That never is stilled. 

A blooming and scenting, 

A song of sweet lies; 

Tet naught but illusion 
That charms and jet flies. 

A willing and doing. 

Yet nothing complete; 

A learning and knowing, 

No wiser a whit. 

A rushing and pushing 
O’er vallej and hill : 

A caring and toiling. 

The grave waiting still. 

A wonderful plaj for 
Both master and slave; 

For earnest, too trifling, 

For jesting, too grave. 


190 


THE HALLia. 


And yet for such living 
The love is so great! 

In folly’s lap idling, 

How pleased the fools sit. 

Hut why art thou chiding 
The comical play? 

The end art thou asking? 

The end is the way. 

Thy hoping and caring, 
Suppose it not paid; 

In hoping and caring 
A Joy thou hast had. 

Uncrowned with laurels 
The hero may bleed ; 

He joys in his courage, 

And there finds his meed. 

The riddles so many? 

The answers so few? 

Why ask the red wine-cup 
On what vine it grew? 

Forgetting is pleasure. 

And thinking is pain ; 

Then take for the real 

What seems the most plain. 

So life let us cherish, 

Enjoy what we have ; 

Before our frame perish, 

Forgot in the grave. 


0 childish resolving! 

0 folly most stark ! 
So billows are tossing 
The rudderless bark. 


POETRY AND PROSE. 


191 


Dost call life a vailing, 

That nothing doth hide? 

Nay! honor that covering I 
It drapeth the bride, 

Who vails herself coldly 
Erom gazers profane, 

But gladdens the faithful 
With promise most plain. 

Her breathing is wafted 
On every side. 

As sea-airs bring greetings 
When oceans divide; 

And wanders the pilgrim 
To north or to south, 

She welcomes him kindly. 

With smiles on ‘her mouth; 

From stars shining o’er him 
Kind glances doth give ; 

And smileth, prophetic, 

On cradle and grave. 

In storm, then, and conflict, 

In nights of thick cloud. 

Though blamed by the wise ones, 
And scorned by the proud. 

Thy brow bind with garlands. 

For festival hall. 

From hope’s tree immortal. 

Whose leaves never fall. 

Who, fighting or falling. 

Doubts not of success. 

Hath gained a sure triumph, 

Hath won the bride’s yes. 

She leads to the altar. 

She guideth him home; 

His faith is now seeing. 

His rest-day has come. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE EBB-WALKE ES. 

Each new wave for me is weaving 
A watery shroud that I must wear ; 

Each new wave, with steady heaving, 

Sounds the death-call in mine ear. . 

We pass over tlie short stay on the island^ whose in- 
terior, surrounded and intersected by strong dikes more 
than tw^enty feet in height, and from eighty to a hun- 
dred feet in thickness, was thus cut off from all view 
of the ocean, and presented the appearance of a camp 
defended by ramiDarts, now forsaken by its garrison, or 
occupied by peaceful '‘husbandmen who had hitherto 
neglected to remove the bulwarks. 

On their return to the hallig, the vessel had at first 
to contend with contrary winds ; then came a joerfect 
calm, and, within about a mile from the ordinary land- 
ing, the anchor was cast, for as the ebb-tide was ap- 
proaching, they could advance no further even with a 
favorable wind. It was a bright afternoon, and the 
scattered houses of the hallig lay in full view of the 
persons so unpleasantly detained. The vessel was soon 
left on dry ground, and it seemed very easy to walk 
over the little space which separated them from the 


THE EBB-W ALKERS. 


193 


higher surface of the hallig. Even if it were necessary 
to wade a little in the soft mud, or now and then to 
leap over a channel or run, still they would get home 
before evening. The idea of being detained in this 
way, made Oswald impatient, and every hour of ab- 
sence from his family was a loss of so much happiness 
to Hold. The two sailors made no objection to let the 
boat lie till the next tide, as they had often done before, 
and so the four set out together on their way to the 
hallig. The many unfortunate accidents which had 
happened to ebb-walkers, certainly ought to have with- 
held them from this undertaking ; but the air was so 
clear and the land so nigh, how could there be any 
danger ? Oswald laughed outright when Hold re- 
marked incidentally, that such attempts had cost many 
a life, and even the latter was readily induced to be- 
lieve that to-day, there could be no risk. 0 short- 
sighted mortals who think themselves so safe, when 
rushing into the very arms of death ! Scarce ten min- 
utes had passed when the wanderers stood anxious and 
uncertain, knowing no longer in which direction to turn 
their stej)s, whether backward or forward. A thick fog 
which came so suddenly that it was impossible to tell 
whether it was from the earth or the air, had com- 
pletely surrounded them. 

These fogs, or sea mists, are often not higher than 
six or eight feet, and it once happened to us that we 
conversed from the deck of a vessel, with people on the 
island, without being able to see any thing of them ex- 
cept their heads which seemed to swim in clearest 
light over the gray impenetrable mass, and whose mo- 
tion from place to place, the body and limbs being 
9 


194 


THE HALLIG. 


invisible^ presented a most curious spectacle. What 
we are about to relate may seem almost incredible to 
all unacquainted with these seas^ but we speak from 
personal experience here, as well as in other portions of 
the book. 

As soon as the fog rose, every eye was unconsciously 
turned back toward the vessel. If they could only have 
seen something in any direction ! If they were more 
than three steps apart they became invisible to each 
other, and could find one another again only by calling. 
Oswald had as yet no suspicion of the great danger, and 
could not understand their anxious consultations. He 
thought that by carefully keeping the right direction, 
they could not fail to reach firm land. The result of the 
council, too, was to go forward, as the hallig, though 
more distant, would not be so easily missed as the small 
vessel. Oswald walked boldly in advance, trilling a 
song, but when they came to deeper places which could 
not be waded through, to runs which they were com- 
pelled to avoid by making various turns before a place 
could be found narrow enough to overleap, when some- 
times one, sometimes another of the party, was lost for 
a considerable time in the fog, he then became more 
and more silent. When he had twice, either from 
hurrying thoughtlessly forward, or remaining too far be- 
hind, been able to find his companions only by loud 
shouts — for the thick fog impeded sound as well as 
sight — when sometimes sinking deep into the ooze^ 
sometimes making a false spring, he had learned all the 
difficulties of the way ; then cold drops fell from his 
forehead, and at every pause, he felt the trembling of 
fear in his limbs. Such pauses became more and more 


THE EBB-WALKEKS. 


195 


frequently necessary^ partly to recover from exhaustion, 
and partly to make sure of the right direction. But 
what circuitous ways were taken in the dense fog, 
which might have been avoided, in a clear atmosphere. 
How easy would have been the passage of a channel a 
few steps to the right or left, and yet a half hour was 
► wasted in searching for the ford, because they had mis- 
taken its direction ; and when they were at length sat- 
isfied th^t it was not where they were seeking it, another 
half hour was lost in trying to return to the last start- 
ing-point. At length the four unhappy wanderers were 
obliged to take each other by the hand, to prevent 
being entirely separated by the gray wall which made 
them invisible to each other, (it the distance of a single 
I step. Till now, little had been said except what the 
circumstances necessarily required. They had walked 
on, each occupied with his own troubled thoughts ; 
only Oswald now broke the painful silence by his sighs 
and lamentations. But soon the terrible question 
passed from mouth to mouth, Which way shall we 
go Alas ! the contradictory answers only too surely 
proved that no certain reliance was to be placed upon 
any. The direction, hitherto partially kept by observ- 
ing every turn, and by the familiarity of the sailors 
Avith the course of the principal runs, was entirely lost. 
For the zig-zags and windings had become more and 
more intricate, the running backward and forward, this 
side and that, more and more confused, and — fearful 
token ! — the channels were, by degrees, becoming wider 
and wider, overflowing into new runs which crept on 
like stealthy spoilers, winding themselves around the 
more elevated portions of the land, or lurkingly resting 


196 


THE HALLIG. 


against some higher hank^ while waiting for reinforce- 
ments ; then boldly climbing the wall and spreading 
out in every direction, they inundated the whole plain. 

Of these movements the travelers saw nothing, al- 
though the fog now began to disperse a little. But 
they well knew the hour when their mortal enemy 
would again assert his dominion over the soil which 
they had so lately boldly ventured to tread. They had 
observed, too, that he was already casting his ];iet-work 
about them, for wherever they went, they struck upon 
his path, wherever they turned he pursued them, and 
soon he was playing continually around the feet of his 
prey. Now, heaving and swelling, it crept on slowly 
but surely, and in the same proportion increased the 
discouragement and fear of the wanderers, whose steps 
were every moment more hurried and more uncertain on 
the now completely overflowed flat. The water curled 
around their trembling knees with a rushing sound, as 
if saying, You escape me no more.'^ Of what avail was 
the new consultation, which way shall we turn ? Even 
if they had. been sure of the true direction, as indeed a 
careful observation of the motion of the tide now showed 
with partial certainty, had they not before them chan- 
nels which had become of impassable depth ? Inde- 
pendently of this obstacle, could they conceal from 
themselves the fact that a direction only nearly right 
was no direction at all, as they might easily pass to the 
right or the left of the hallig, now, as it were in mid 
ocean. Yet an attempt was made to press forward, but 
soon given up, as the leader of the party suddenly sunk 
to the shoulders in a run, from which he was with diffi- 
culty lifted out. Nothing was now left but to remain 


THE EBB-WALKERS. 


197 


just where they were^ and, in utter helplessness, resign 
themselves to the steadily advancing ocean, commend- 
ing their souls and bodies in prayer to that Father in 
Heaven who alone can say to the waves, Thus far and 
no further.'" My poor, poor wife !" thought Hold, and 
his mind was so completely occupied with this idea, so 
entirely filled with sympathy for her in the loss of her 
husband, that all consciousness of the present danger 
was forgotten in her affliction. The two sailors stood 
in silent resignation. But in this forced inactivity, Os- 
wald had no power of contending against the fear of 
death by opposing it with a stronger feeling, or even 
to conceal it under apparent tranquillity. As long as 
it was possible to make any effort to escape, every 
favorable circumstance filled him with hope, and the 
difficulties of the way caused him, sometimes, to forget 
entirely that they were treading a path which was per- 
haps only leading them to more certain destruction. 
But to stand still with the wide waste of waters around 
him ; to see in every light dash of the waves a new mes- 
senger of death, sent maliciously by the enemy now sure 
of his prey ; to endure a martyrdom which was without 
change of pain ; to see drop after drop steadily falling 
from the cup of hope ; to measure, second by second, 
the advance of a cruel death which surrounded him like 
a huge serpent, winding itself upward in higher and 
higher circles ; to feel it approaching nearer and nearer 
to the loud beating heart ; this was more than Oswald 
could bear. At first he vehemently urged his compan- 
ions to endeavor to think of some other means of es- 
cape. At length, when forced to believe their repeated 
assurances that every expedient had been tried, and that 


198 


THE HALLIG. 


their last hope was now the possibility that the fog 
might clear away, and the land prove sufficiently near 
for them to be able to call over a boat to their assist- 
ance, seeing only certain death in delay, he gave a 
scream so piercing, so heart-rending, that only the 
most fearful agony of soul could have given him the 
preternatural strength to utter such a cry. But this 
shout completely exhausted his strength, his limbs could 
support him no longer, he trembled violently in every 
joint, his teeth chattered, and his hair stood up with 
horror ; he could no longer utter a coherent word. He 
would have sunk if the pastor had not held him up. 
They were now all obliged to draw closely together for 
mutual support, as the waves had already risen so high 
that it was difficult to resist their pressure. Silent, 
with hand grasped in hand, the group stood firmly by 
each other. Each had his life's reckoning to work up, 
and therefore had no time to complain, no disposition 
to console. Oswald, indeed, desired to commit his soul to 
the protection of Heaven, and in the confusion of his 
wild thoughts and feelings he once threw a look up- 
ward, but the heavens, where here and there a star was 
glimmering through the fog, did not seem to regard the 
glance ; at least the young man's eye shrunk timidly 
back, and, at the same moment, a higher wave rolled 
up behind him dashing a double stream from his neck 
and shoulders upon his breast. Thou art condemned," 
was the thought that passed through his shuddering 
soul, and forced from him a new cry of anguish, which 
was followed by low continued moans, mingled with 
broken sighs. Perhaj)s, to firmer souls, this lamentation 
might have been repulsive, but its effects on his com- 


THE EBB- WALKERS. 


199 


panions in suffering, was to make them give free vent 
to their own sighs and complaints. 

But onward and onward came the rolling water ; 
wave j)iled itself on wave, each one cutting off a mo- 
ment from the brief hour of life that remained. 

The fog finally disappeared entirely, burying its damp 
mists in the sea. Only a few stars were visible in the 
sky, and on the sea they who were standing nearly breast 
high in the water could see nothing except, here and 
there, the reflection of the star-light on the crest of a 
curling billow. The darkness concealed the boat. But 
there ! there ! and there again ! there are the lights of 
the hallig. Close up your accounts the more quickly, 
ye unhappy ones ! the light of your homes will serve for 
your funeral tapers. How you have gone astray ! These 
lights show that you are three times further from the 
hallig than when you first left the vessel. No cry of 
yours can reach that distant coast ; and even if it could, 
the swiftest boat could not come in time to save you. 
There sit your loved ones waiting for you ! He will 
come soon V say father and mother, wife and child, 
brother and sister, and your place will be left vacant in 
their midst till you come. For your warm reception, 
for your refreshment after the journey, every thing is 
ready ; all will seem familiar and friendly ; hearty and 
sincere will be the welcome that greets you. You shall 
tell the listening circle what you have seen, and praise 
again your pleasant fireside. But no ! your place will 
remain empty in the midst of that circle ; for onward 
and onward rolls the tide, wave heaps itself on wave, 
each snatching a moment from the short half hour 
which still remains to you. 


200 


THE HALLIG. 


My poor wife ! my child ! my child V cried Hold, 
aloud to Heaven. Beside him the men stood, sighing ; 
and Oswald's despairing groans filled every pause. But 
the troubled spirit which had oppressed the soul of the 
pastor, and which had so paralyzed him who was gene- 
rally filled with the joy of believing — ^perhaps because 
he had been led by an impulse of vanity to assent to 
this w’alk over the flats, rather than risk being thought 
cowardly — this troubled spirit had with this cry reached 
the acme of its anguish, and was now met, as it were, 
by the lightning from heaven ; God has not given us 
the spirit of fear, but of power and love." Then it 
seemed as if Hold came forth in victorious triumph 
from the shades of darkness and the bonds of death, 
which had so long bound him ; and with a loud and 
firm voice, he commenced a sort of exhortation ; rather, 
indeed, in broken sentences, as the nature of the cir- 
cumstances permitted, than in the connected form in 
which we here present it. 

Blessed be God, the Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, the Father of mercy and the God of all com- 
fort, who consoles us in all our sorrows, that w^e may 
comfort those who are in every kind of affliction 
with the comfort wherewith we are comforted by him. 
Praised be the Lord in all his works, for his works are 
perfect. At his command the waters rise and fall. He 
blows upon the sea with the breath of his mouth, and 
the waves shrink before him. He blows upon the sea 
with the breath of his mouth, and it heaves and swells 
obedient to his word ! and what he commands, that 
comes to pass in good time. So this too is his hour. 
It is his counsel which prepares this grave for us ; and 


THE EBB- WALKERS. 


201 


his hands will lead our souls also into his kingdom. 
Kejoice ! for in this hour of anguish he hath cleansed 
us from our sins. He hath left us to our weakness that 
the last fragment of our self-reliance might disappear 
before the words, ^ Be still, and know that I am God V 
Thus hath he judged us here below ; and in his visita- 
tion, our sins have gone over our heads, as the water is 
now going over them ; so that we have thrown far from 
us the robe of our own righteousness, and clothed our 
souls in the wedding-garment of Christ's righteousness, 
which alone avails before God. — Hallelujah to the God 
of strength, the Father of love ! Through his power 
we overcome the world ; and his peace fills the panting 
heart with peace and joy. And those who weep for us 
— 0 Lord, our God, our prayer ascends from the deep, 
and through the clouds to thee, and thou hearest us 
who pour out our hearts before thee ! We entreat, 
and we doubt not ; thou art the father and the helper 
of the widow and the orphan ; under the shadow of 
thy wings they rest. Thou upholdest them, when they 
think themselves ready to fall. Thou pointest out a 
way where they see no path. Father, comfort them, 
strengthen them, lead them for the sake of our prayer, 
as thou hast promised, ^ Ask and ye shall receive.' We 
pray not for ourselves. W e have only to render thanks 
that thou hast permitted us to hear thy word with 
true understanding and full faith. ^ We are troubled 
on every side, but not distressed. We are perplexed, 
but not in despair. We are persecuted, but not for- 
saken. We are cast down, but not destroyed.' For 
thou hast set a bright light in our hearts ; and our 
faith has become sight, even here below. May that 
9 * 


202 


THE HALLIG. 


light continue to shine through the darkness, that we 
may praise and glorify thee in death, and may our 
souls ascend from the deep, with wings like eagles". 
Hallelujah ! Honor and glory to our God who hath 
given us the victory over death. Hallelujah ! To the 
Lord he glory and thanks through all eternity. Amen."" 

These animated words of the pastor produced the 
strongest impression upon the men of the hallig. 
They had just heard his sighs and lamentations, had 
seen him share the weakness and distress of his com- 
panions, and now he was suddenly raised to such lofty 
faith, to such triumph over death that they received his 
address, although it was entirely within their compre- 
hension, as a voice from on high, as the language of a 
spirit which had triumphed over the world, which had 
driven out the demon of fear and despair, and taken its 
place in the breast of their shepherd who was so lately 
overwhelmed like themselves. That almost every sen- 
tence was borrowed from Scripture, gave this consolatory 
exhortation, for those who, from their childhood, had 
revered the Bible as the Word of God, the perfect 
stamp of truth ; and therefore, it produced the more 
decided effect upon their minds. But this consolation 
was lost upon Oswald. While the others gave praise 
and thanksgiving, as though the hour of death were an 
occasion for rejoicing, this testimony of the triumph of 
faith seemed like a mockery of his own heart. He 
sometimes tried to repeat a word of faith and hope' 
after his companions ; but he was not sure that he 
really uttered it ; at any rate, it returned to him empty, 
and found in his heart, agonized by the fear of death, 
not even a momentary abiding-place. He hoped by 


THE EBB-WALKEKS. 


203 


cries and lamentations to move some power to pity ; 
but these cries and lamentations were entirely within 
himself ; his lips quivered^ but gave forth no sound ; he 
thought he was contending vigorously against the waves ; 
but his nerves only twitched convulsively ; all muscular 
power had forsaken his palsied limbs. He presented 
the perfect picture of a man who had become a martyr 
to his own want of faith and forgetfulness of God. 

But onward and onward rolled the tide ; wave piled 
itself upon wave, each reducing by one, the few mo- 
ments that now remained to the unhappy victims of the 


sea. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE WAKNIKCt AND THE RESCUE, 

Every thing they fain would know, 

Every thing would comprehend, 

Every thing would overthrow 
And the faulty fabric mend. 

If aught most plain agree not 
With the doctrines they declare, 

The open eye must see not, 

And the open ear not hear. 


Not alone with the above lines, would we introduce 
the following narrative of the influence of mind upon 
mind, which seems exalted even to the supernatural. 
By the mere assertion or denial of an opinion which is 
at variance with the ordinary belief, or of an experience 
which is out of the every-day course of events, nothing 
is gained. As to the grounds upon which our experience 
endeavors to explain away such influence as mere delu- 
sion, we must confess, that they, thus far, have not 
had great weight with us, doubtfully and carefully as 
we have always moved through the dark regions of 
psychical investigation. Hold^s effort to make an unde- 
niable fact more acceptable to his faith, partakes of the 
usual character of such attempts. It is gray on gray, 
or chiaroscuro, the wonderful explained by the wonder- 


THE WARNING AND THE RESCUE. 205 

ful. Yet we gladly quote from him here by way of in- 
troduction to this chapter. 

Is there not much in our souls/' says he^ which is 
above the common laws of thought and feeling ? Does 
not devotion open within us depths, which, but for her, 
we should never discover ? and are not the pearls and 
gems which she draws forth from these depths, of a 
kind, the value of which, our knowledge and under- 
standing are not competent to estimate ? But devo- 
tion in its highest state is unity with Deity, a losing of 
our own souls in him, and we must he dead to our 
former self-reliant psychical life, and live, move, and 
have our being in God alone ; by which means we be- 
come capable of thinking, feehng, and acting far above 
our former selves, because the power of God is mighty 
in the weak. As then, love to God enables us to walk 
upon heights unattainable by our natural faculties, so 
earthly love shows us a way from heart to heart, which 
would be unknown without this gift. There is in this 
love, too, a language and a "sympathy which, like devo- 
tion, inscribes its mystical character in the book of our 
lives only at a certain period. In moments in which 
we entirely forget ourselves and sink all our thoughts 
and feelings in the soul of the beloved object, the dis- 
tant becomes the near, separation becomes union ; and 
our prayers, warnings, sighs, and greetings become the 
thoughts and the feelings of the person beloved, and so 
they remain not as mere insignificant dreams, but 
clothe themselves also in the garment of visible forms 
and audible words, which, however, are only refiections 
of ideas and emotions so called forth, and, therefore, 
not appreciable to the senses of any but the person so 


206 


THE HALLIG. 


acted upon. There are recognitions here similar to 
those whereby we shall know each other in the everlast- 
ing habitations, when the soul is clothed with her new 
body, of which our earthly covering is but a coarse 
type. But these mutual influences of mind upon mind, 
can be possible only in those whose love is not alone 
capable of the most complete self-devotion, but where 
it has been proved and strengthened by long and inti- 
mate acquaintance, and a complete union of thought 
and feeling."^ 

But now to our narrative. 

Godber and Idalia were sitting near each other in 
their little dwelling, in the evening twilight of this day 
which threatened to be one of so much sorrow to the 
hallig. There were frequent pauses in their conversa- 
tion, because each was making an effort to keep it up. 

This is always the case when two persons are to- 
gether who have something on their minds, about which 
they ought to come to a mutual understanding ; but 
while recognizing this necessity, they avoid an open ex- 
planation, because they fear from it a result more 
painful than the present oppressive uncertainty and in- 
decision. 

Idalia took little pains to conceal her dissatisfaction, 
while Godber exerted himself to the utmost to show 
the greatest possible kindness and tenderness in his 
manner. Their hearts were already separated. The 
flame of love was almost extinguished, only they could 
not bring themselves to confess it to each other or to 
their own hearts ; Idalia, because a certain sympathy for 
the young man who had ventured his life for her, and 
sacrificed to her his betrothed, was still strong in her 


THE WARNING AND THE RESCUE. 207 

hearty and this feeling gave a weight to the feeble rem- 
nant of her love which it would not otherwise have 
had. Godber dared not think clearly upon his own 
feelings^ because he was loth to lose a treasure which 
he had so dearly bought^ although he began to perceive 
that it would not make him happy, and because he 
shuddered at the vacuity of a heart floating between 
one lifers hope thrown away, and another that had 
proved deceptive. 

During one of these embarrassing pauses, the door 
suddenly opened and the pastor^s wife, a rare visitor in 
that house, stood, pale and trembling, before the aston- 
ished pair. 

Godber, Godber ! I implore you ! take your boat 
and row over toward the ship. They are in danger ! 
my husband is in danger ! Pity an unhappy wife, 
Godber, and row over 

In the mean time, she had seized his hand with the 
most imj)loring expression of anguish, and was on the 
point of sinking to the floor, when Godber sprang up 
and placed the half-fainting woman on his chair. 

Quiet yourself, madam,^^ cried he ; I will do 
every thing you wish. Is there any news of them 

Mander, who now came in from another room where 
he had been occupying himself with books calculated to 
enlighten the present twilight of his faith, inquired, 
eagerly, the cause of Madam Hold's distress, and how 
she knew that the vessel was in danger. 

0 you ask questions ! you don't believe !" com- 
plained she, wringing her hands, ^^and meanwhile my 
husband is sinking in the waves ! you did not see him 
as I saw him ! His finger tapped at my window, I 


208 


THE HALLia. 


hastened joyfully to the door. He stood there — I saw 
his face so plainly in the mist ! I was about to em- 
brace him and bring him into the house — but his fea- 
tures dissolved^ and as they melted away I heard him 
sigh^ ^ My poor^ poor wife !" 0^ Godber^ take pity on 

me and row out ! I will go with you ; I am strong enough 
to row. You do not know what a wife and mother can 
do when struggling for the life of her husband.^^ 

Mander vainly endeavored to represent to her the 
powerful effects of imagination^ and how natural it was 
that her love which endured so reluctantly the absence 
of her husband, should conjure up before her every pos- 
sible cause for anxiety, which, after all, had its found- 
ation only in her longing for his return, and perhaps 
in the idea, too long indulged in, while alone, ^^what if 
he should never return from some of these journeys 
In vain Godber spoke of the wind, of the weather, of 
the tide, that there could not possibly be any danger, 
but that detention must have been unavoidable. The 
pastor's wdfe opposed to all these objections what she 
had just seen. She told what she had thought and 
done up to the very moment of this strange appear- 
ance ; she declared that, at that time, there was in her 
mind nothing but the most cheerful picture of the pas- 
tor's return, and spoke with such certainty of convic- 
tion, and gave such an exact description of the most 
minute circumstance, that all further open objection 
ceased. Godber, who participated with most sailors in 
a readiness to believe in mysterious influences and won- 
derful premonitions, had scarcely a doubt that there 
was something of the kind here. As the distress of the 
wife, like a flood restrained with difiiculty for a short 


THE WARNING AND THE RESCUE. 209 

time, again overwhelmed every thought and feeling so 
: that she begged in the most heart-rending tones, 
Grodber, save him, save him f he hastened to execute 
her wishes. Mander and Idalia walked home with the 
poor woman who was so tortured with anxiety for her 
husband, and whose strength, now that she had ob- 
tained her object, was completely exhausted. Yet she 
was unwilling to remain longer from her child. God- 
ber, with the two sailors who had been his former ship- 
mates, went down to the beach and got into the boat. 

I Fortunately, as it was to be used the next morning as 
a lighter, it lay in a place where, at the first coming on 
of the fiood, it could be easily pushed off, and although 
the fog had as yet broken away little, they soon found 
the vessel they sought, one of the sailors having ob- 
served where she cast anchor just before the low-ebb. 
When their calls, which had been kept up from the 
first sight of the vessel, remained unanswered, when 
t they had climbed upon the deck, and gone down into 
the cabin, and still saw no soul ; there was no longer 
any doubt that the unhappy persons who had been on 
board, were wandering somewhere on the fiats, or per- 
1 haps had already become the prey of the rising sea. 
Where should they seek them ? In what direction 
I should they turn the boat ? So questioning, Godber 
stood on the deck, and gazed with the most searching 
look, as if his eye could pierce the dense fog. He heard 
the light dashing of the waves against the keel, with a 
shudder, as if he were standing himself, a helpless vic- 
tim, in the midst of the swelling tide. Hark ! what 
was that cried the three men at once. There came 
a short, shrill cry, as if from far, far away. Each one 


210 


THE HALLIG. 


thought he heard in it a call for help, and our readers 
will understand that it was Oswald's fearful shriek. 
It is true they were doubtful again, when their united 
and often repeated halloo brought no reply. As they 
had nothing else to guide their choice of a direction, 
they determined to follow the one from which they fan- 
cied the cry had proceeded. They rowed rapidly for- 
ward, often relieving each other in order to keep up the 
speed of the boat, only pausing now and then for a mo- 
ment, to listen for an answer to their shouts. But 
none came ; and the tide had already risen so high 
that, in their present situation, it seemed scarcely pos- 
sible to find the lost ones alive, if they had wandered 
about until now. The fog having cleared away, the 
surface of the sea as far as they could overlook it, 
showed only the unbroken play of the waves in the 
starlight ; yet they resolved once more to unite all their 
strength in one long halloo, and then turn in another 
direction. 

We now go back to those whom we left in the most 
imminent peril of death. Their strength, which they 
were constantly obliged to exert in order to withstand 
the pressure of the advancing tide, was gradually fail- 
ing. Had there not been a perfect calm, death would 
long since have done its work. The triumphant spirit 
which had animated Hold, and through his exhorta- 
tions, the two islanders, had now sunk into a silent, 
almost unconscious submission ; while Oswald's breast, 
though his body had become completely torpid, was still 
fearfully possessed with the dread of the coming doom ; 
and the vain seeking for some word of comfort had tor- 
tured him to frantic despair. He had indeed always 


THE WARNING AND THE RESCUE. 211 

belonged to that class of persons who observe the rules 
of external respectability, though they extend its limits 
so far as to include all those sins which arise from the 
so-called weakness of human nature. He had obtained 
universally the name of being an amiable, agreeable, 
entertaining young man ; and this he thought all that 
could reasonably be required of him. And yet what a 
fearful emptiness and nakedness was here, in view of 
eternity ! Why did his good heart,"^ with which he had 
consoled himself hitherto in his most earnest hours, 
leave him now so entirely comfortless and hopeless ? 
His kindness to every one, his sympathy in their weal 
or woe, his readiness to advance their interests, his dil- 
igence in his own affairs, even the emotions, in moments 
once not rare in his life, when he gazed at the firma- 
ment of heaven or was reading the finer portions of 
some noble poem, which awakened his better nature — 
could not the recollections of these sustain him now in 
the presence of death ? Why did all this vanish from 
his memory ? or, when he was about to grasp it for sup- 
port, disappear so like an empty shadow ? Why, in 
spite of all this, did his life lie before him like a dry 
naked heath, on which no blossom was to be gathered 
for the harvest which was now come ? Why then, 
since there are thousands in no way equal to him, thou- 
sands so deeply sunk in sin and shame, that in compar- 
ison with them he might be called a saint — ^why did not 
the searcher of hearts, he whom the Christian praises 
as the God of love and mercy — ^why did not he turn 
from him the fiaming sword of judgment which was 
pressing his soul, and consuming the very marrow of 
his strength ? Wherefore must he hear approaching 


212 


THE HALLIG. 


nearer and nearer the fearful thunder roll^ Lost ! 
lost V’ 

Might not similar questions trouble your soul, dear 
reader, if the Almighty should have such a fearful hour 
in store for you ? 

The final struggle seemed now to have come, for they 
were v/ell-nigh covered by the waves. 

Lord, into thy hands,"" said Hold, thinking that he 
was uttering the last words for himself and his com- 
panions, when lo ! a loud halloo came over the waters, 
and penetrated, like a resurrection call, the souls of 
those who had given up the last hope of life. But a 
long moment of rapture and of agony passed away be- 
fore they could gather strength to answer. The first 
sound was scarcely more than a deep sigh, and served 
only to waken the fear that their voices could not pos- 
sibly be heard. At the same time, that hard- won resig- 
nation to the will of God was suddenly swept away 
from them by that call, and the full consciousness of 
their terrible situation, the memory of dear friends, 
whom their death would plunge in grief and anguish of 
heart, came back in all their strength. At last, with a 
fearful efibrt, a cry broke forth from all, which echoed 
far over the sea, and which, now that their tongues were 
once loosed, continued almost uninterrupted, and even 
became stronger as the answers drew nearer. A boat 
now appeared in sight, rolling on like a dark wave, and 
impelled by vigorous strokes of oars, the spray from 
which sparkled in the starlight like a shower of fire. A 
shout of joy was exchanged. A thrill of delight trem- 
bled through the frames of the drowning men. In long- 
ing expectation, they already stretched out their arms 


THE WAKNING AND THE RESCUE. 213 

j toward tlie still distant boat, which was rowed with 
almost superhuman strength, and which seemed to dash 
forward more and more rapidly, the nearer it ap- 
proached. Now it was beside them. The joyful cry of 
the rescued mingled with that of the rescuers ; and the 
little boat, which had arrived at the latest moment, 

! snatched from the sea its victims, and soon bore them 
i to their own friends. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE NEW BIRTH. 

This life is hut a mirror 
Eeflecting thine own heart ; 
The echoes thou art hearing, 
From thine own lips did start. 


The sending of the boat, and the cause of so unusual 
a circumstance, were soon known on the hallig, and the 
whole congregation assembled on the shore to await its 
return. They saw from a distance that no one was miss- 
ing, and the extreme anxiety of the pastor's wife was 
now readily forgiven, in consideration of her affection 
for her husband. But when it was told in what a dan- 
gerous situation the four men had been found, which 
was abundantly confirmed by their complete exhaustion, 
then every eye was turned to her whose strong present- 
iment all regarded as the means used by a merciful 
God to save them. She only clasped her husband in 
silence, gazing, with a smile of grateful, happy love, 
now at him, now at the heaven above her. And thither, 
too, she pointed, when the wife of one of the sailors 
openly ascribed to her the rescue. It was not till after 
their arrival at their own dwellings, that the sufferers 
became fully aware of the physical effects of the dangers 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


215 


tiirougli which they had passed. In proportion as the 
mental excitement became quieted by rest, the bodily 
weakness increased, even to fainting, thus causing fresh 
anxiety to the hearts of their friends. The following 
day they passed in a half dreamy state, from which they 
could scarcely rouse themselves for a moment, to 
receive the cordials which were administered to them. 
Hold, apparently the least strong of the party, was 
the first to recover his physical and mental faculties. 
Perhaps because his feelings were soonest directed 
heavenward, and poured out in joyful thanksgiving to 
God. 

Oswald lay for several days in an unquiet slumber, 
broken by convulsive shudderings and fearful dreams, 
and required the most careful medical attendance. On 
the fifth morning, after a deep refreshing sleep, he woke 
invigorated, but several days passed before he could 
leave his bed for any considerable time. Leaning on 
his father's arm, he walked up and down the chamber, 
and tried, in talking over the late occurrence with him, 
to take his former gay and trifling tone, although it was 
not without an inward struggle. But the father was 
grave and solemn, and said, finally : 

Oswald, let us not strive against God's providence. 
He has brought us to this island that we may know 
and acknowledge the one thing needful. He wills to 
save us. On me, too, has he laid his hand anew, in the 
providence which suspended such a terrible fate over 
your head. I can no longer resist him ; I must praise 
him and thank him that his grace has been greater than 
my blindness and my guilt. Henceforth I will serve 
him, and him alone, and would I could say, ^ As for me 


216 


THE HALLia. 


and my house, we will serve the Lord/ How fearfully 
has he revealed to you in his judgments, and by his 
mercies also, that he wills not that any should perish, 
but that all should turn to him and repent. As a brand 
snatched from the burning, so the Lord would draw 
your soul to himself. Oswald, my son, strive no longer 
against him.^" 

But, father,"" replied Oswald, as much embarrassed 
as agitated by the emotion of his parent, shall I then 
sacrifice my youth to a joyless seriousness 

No, you shall not sacrifice it,"" said Mander ; you 
shall sanctify it, illuminate it, and your whole life, even 
to the end, with a joy which is greater, and gives more 
than all that you have thus far derived from worldly 
pleasure. You shall obtain an inward, sure happiness 
which can teach you to overcome such hours of agony 
as those that have marked you forever."" 

Surprised at the words, have marked you forever,"" 
Oswald turned toward the little mirror, and now stood 
there, paralyzed with horror. When I am gray- 
headed,^^ he had said to the pastor, jestingly, I will 
perhaps think about my conversion."" • And lo ! that 
one awful night had changed his hair to silver gray. He 
had become a white-haired man in the flower of his 
youth. Long he stood speechless, trembling in every 
limb, and with the paleness of death on his face ; then 
with the cry, God, I acknowledge thee,"" he sank faint- 
ing in the arms of his father. 

When he revived, he asked for a glass, but, at the first 
look, he pushed it away with a shudder and groan. He 
answered the soothing words which were said to him 
only by a broken moan which spoke, now of a soul tor- 


THE NEW BIBTH. 217 

tured by despair, now of a heart languishing for conso- 
lation from above. 

Let him alone/^ said Hold, to whom Mander had 
turned. It is enough if we watch him in silence ; we 
must not disturb him. The Lord has laid his hand upon 
him, and a struggle is going on within him, in which all 
human help would be useless, even dangerous. Oswald 
must experience, must live through hours more fearful 
than those in the sea, and it is not well that the boat 
of safety should come to him too soon. In that case he 
might leave it again."' 

And the anxious father saw and heard Oswald start 
from his bed, and, with hasty steps, in spite of his pre- 
vious weakness, walk up and down the chamber, some- 
times throwing a timid glance upward, sometimes cov- 
ering his eyes with his hands, then, throwing himself on 
the side of his bed, he would bury his face in the pil- 
lows. At another moment he would try to pray — then 
renounce all hope of God — then, again, more like one 
dreaming than sleeping, he would lie speechless on his 
couch. Toward evening, they heard him gently sob- 
bing and weeping, and he then took feebly, and with in- 
difference, the refreshment which his father offered him. 
But when the latter inquired how he found himself, he 
seized his hand, and wetting it with his tears, said en- 
treatingly — 

Father, father, forgive me !" 

Let us both pray God to forgive us, my child," re- 
plied Mander, tenderly ; and his tears mingled with 
those of his son. 

But the thought of the necessity of divine forgive- 
ness exerted again, in Oswald's heart, aU the terrors of 
10 


218 


THE HALLTG. 


the last few hours ; and Mander passed a night, by the 
bed-side of his son, which, he confessed afterward, was 
for him a school of the severest, and yet most whole- 
some discipline. 

The morning came, and with it came to Oswald the 
new creating Word, with its note of trmmj)h, ^^old 
things have passed away, and behold all things have be- 
come new.'' The tempest in his breast was still ; the 
troubled sea was calm and smooth ; and the star of 
divine hope was mirrored in its depths. This transition 
from the most torturing distress to the most happy 
peace, was not like the gradual subsiding of the waves, 
when the tempest grows weaker and weaker, but rather 
resembled that miraculous change that took place when, 
at the prayer of his disciples, Lord save us ; we perish !’' 
the Lord rose, and rebuked the wind and the sea. Then 
there was a great calm. In like manner, here too, had 
the cry, Lord save us, we perish," been uttered at the 
right moment ; and in the wildest night of gloom, the 
sun of peace and triumph suddenly arose. So does the 
hour of spiritual regeneration often resemble that of 
the natural birth. And are there not often, in our 
seasons of devotion — unless our prayers are but a feeble 
knocking, and have no entrance to the Father — mo- 
ments in which the feeling of God's presence, and the 
joy of communion with him, completely overflow the 
heart, without gradual elevation or subsequent depres- 
sion ? Oswald was like a child that lias just waked from 
a frightful dream, and sees the bright display of his 
Christmas pleasures all spread out before him. No 
thought of the anguish wliich had but just now rent his 
soul, disturbed the hosanna of the new life. 


THE NEW BIETH. 


219 


The father's emotions were hut an echo of the son's ; 
and his joy that his child had found peace^ scarcely left 
a full consciousness of what he himself had obtained. 

The pastor found him, early in the morning, on his 
knees by the bed-side of his son. Their hands were 
clasped together in united prayer. Their eyes, still 
moist with tears, were turned toward him who had 
granted them this healing mercy. 

The work of the Holy Spirit was complete. The 
pastor said little. He made no allusion to the past, no 
exhortation for the future ; his words were rather the 
closing benediction, the final- hallelujah of this solemn 
consecration. 

It was not until the second and third days following, 
that Hold indulged himself in a longer conversation 
with young Mander ; and he found him so ready to re- 
ceive all the blessings and promises of the Gospel, so 
willing to accept all the mysteries of faith, so clear and 
decided in his understanding of such portions of the 
Eevealed Word as were pointed out to him, that, full 
of astonishment, he exclaimed. 

When have you learned this T' 

Learned !" replied Oswald; I know neither how 
nor when. Those terrible hours in the water seemed to 
me like the fire which purges the gold from its dross. 
Terrible as w^ere those, and the hom*s which have fol- 
lowed them, still it seems to me as if I had suffered 
nothing for the peace which I now possess ; as if I ought 
to drink a far more bitter cup, before enjoying the riches 
of his grace, which, out of his fullness, he has poured 
upon me. Oh ! God is full of love, goodness, and mercy, 
far, far above our knowledge or understanding ! How 


220 


THE HALLIG. 


could I SO long refuse to acknowledge him ! How of- 
ten has he called me ! I see him now, from the begin- 
ning, so careful for my soul ; I now understand that 
voice in my heart, whose tones were once disregarded. 
My whole past life lies before me, as an uninterrupted 
succession of claims on my heart, of warnings from my 
conscience, of directions into the right way, of the men- 
aces of God's judgment. How could I have been so 
deaf and so blind !" 

We baptize our children with water," said Hold to 
himself ; ^^but God chooses his own time to baptize them 
with his Holy Spirit. And shall we question that grace, 
when we see that our preparation for this baptism has 
been longer and more painful, and the baptism itself not 
richer in gifts than that of another child whom God has 
chosen for a witness of the wonderful power of his love 

Was this soliloquy of the pastor, who, only through 
circuitous ways, and hard conflicts, had attained the 
heights of faith on which he now stood, the result of a 
feeling akin to envy, or of a cautious distrust of so 
sudden a change in one who had till now been so com- 
pletely a stranger to God ? There might have been 
some little mixture of both, without the pastor's being 
able to distinguish quite clearly the one from the other. 

The next morning Oswald declared his intention of 
preparing himself to become a missionary. 

I must go out," said he, among the heathen. I 
must preach the Gosj)el. I would stretch out my arms 
to all those who are wandering in darkness, and call out 
to them. Enter into the peace of your Lord ! The love 
which I have experienced will become heavy and bur- 
densome to me, if I can not suffer something for it. It 


THE NEW BIRTH. 221 

will grow to a flame that will consume me, if I do not 
share its glow with others."^ 

Hold opposed this resolution, first loj advising him 
not to feel too sure, now in the first spring of his enthu- 
siasm, that he possessed the stability necessary for an 
apostle. But when Oswald urged the entire change 
which had taken place in his being and character ; 
when he declared it absolutely necessary to his future 
peace that he should go and risk suffering and death, 
for the sake of the Gospel, Hold reminded him with an 
earnestness which is explained by his above mentioned 
reflections on the conversion of Oswald, 

^^How hardly do we learn to be truly humble in 
spirit ! How continually we strive against being mere 
recipients ; we would take for ourselves, give to our- 
selves, or, at least, pay off as far as possible, the debt we 
owe entirely to the Lord. And so you would now strug- 
gle, bear, and suffer, that you may in the end, claim a 
little self-desert, where there is nothing but the pure 
mercy of your heavenly Father.^^ 

0, certainly not,"' said Oswald, I feel too entire- 
ly that nothing is mine, that all is his, that only his 
warm spring-breath has driven the cold night of winter 
from the desert of my life. I feel as new and strange a 
happiness as must the earth, had she a soul, in spring- 
time, at whose approach the long frozen rivers are un- 
bound, all the streams flow freely again, and along 
their banks vegetation shoots forth into life, and buds 
and blossoms in the sunlight. I desire to do nothing 
but to carry these blossoms and this perfume into the 
wilderness where winter still reigns. I desire only to 
seek a sovl which shall awake like me, to life, and with 


222 


THE HALLIG. 


me, praise our Father who hath done so great things 
for us/^ 

^^Do not forget/" replied Hold, ^Hhat hours will 
come in your life, in which you will feel your own pov- 
erty, although you now fancy yourself rich enough to 
share with others. And then I would prefer, at least, i 
for messengers to the heathen, men of plain, pious 
minds from their youth up, such as were the first apos- < 
ties ; men who, neither misguided nor bewildered from 
the beginning, brought simple hearts to the Lord ; men 
whose recollections of their youth would be less dark- 
ened by repentance, and who would, therefore, assume 
the office of evangelist from pure love, not coupled 
with the idea of doing penance for the past. Their 
preaching will be more simple, less studied, less out of 
their own hearts, more certain to give only that which 
they have received from the Lord and from his word. 

^^Its object would not be so much to root out former 
sin from the hearts of the converts, as to illuminate, to 
sanctify, and to bless. It would not regard the heathen 
world so exclusively as a field to be prepared for the 
seed, but it would sow the grain in hope, and leave its ^ 
growth to the sun and dew from heaven ; and I think j 

that the true apostolic way, from which, however, he ^ 

departs so easily whose heart was a long time a bed of 
weeds before the good seed took root."" 

^^0 !"" sighed Oswald, ^^you are always in the right, 
after all. But it is impossible for me to return to that 
dry business in which I was formerly engaged, and the 
only object of which is to secure the luxuries of life ; 
impossible that I should ever again feel happy in the 
society of my native town."" 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


223 


Faith transfigures every thing/" said Hold; ^^all 
our affections^ occupations, trials, and hopes. If you 
have, till now, considered the business of a merchant 
merely as designed to secure earthly enjoyments, you 
will now regard it in a new light. It is commerce 
which breaks down all natural and artificial barriers be- 
tween nations. It sends its flag over the broad ocean, 
passes mountain chains, and leads the beast of burden 
through barren wastes and desert sands. No toil, no 
peril deters it. It defies the vertical sun of the south, 
and the ice of arctic seas."" 

Yes,"" said Mander, joining in the conversation, 
we assist, too, in the intellectual development of 
mankind. It was not until after I had become satis- 
fied of this, that I was able to pass without repugnance, 
from the study of writings calculated to elevate the 
mind above every thing merely selfish and worldly, to 
the exchange and counting-room. We advance the 
growing brotherhood and further the progress of na- 
tions, by bringing them nearer to each other, thereby 
removing their mutual distrust, hostility, contempt, 
prejudice, and ignorance. For commerce is a living, 
moving web, stretching over the whole surface of the 
earth, whose threads bind all nations together, making 
them mutually dependent, and so teaching them to 
love and respect each other. It is the bearer of a 
never-ending exchange, not only of worldly goods, but 
of intellectual advancement. Not only does it make 
the products of each one common to all, but it scat- 
ters everywhere that intellectual light, which, without 
its world-embracing activity, would have shone only 
over a very small part of the earth"s surface. It tends 


224 


THE HALLia. 


to maintain peace^ because its interests, which suffer 
severely during war, weigh heavily in the balance 
against it. It makes the earth one common country, 
man a single nation, which, though differing in lan- 
guage and customs, is united by mutual intercourse, 
and though often roused to conflict, yet at the flrst 
note of peace, is again bound together by brotherly ex- 
cl.ange.'" 

And,"" continued Hold, does not the flag of com- 
merce open to the Gospel messenger, lands which would 
otherwise be inaccessible to him ? Does not trade 
build for the word of God bridges from land to land, 
and from people to people Destroy commerce, and it 
will be long before we can say, one flock under one 
Shepherd, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God 
and father of all ! We can not all labor directly, but 
some must work indirectly, for the kingdom of God. 
If we would elevate our calling, which, apparently, 
serves to promote only immediate earthly well-being, 
we must learn to connect it with the one thing needful, 
with the raising of the children of dust to the children 
of God. It is a pleasure to the physician, if he has 
been able, by his science, to raise his patient from the 
brink of the grave to the enjoyment of life. But his 
joy is greater, diviner, if he considers besides, that God, 
through him, has granted to an immortal soul a longer 
probation in which to ripen for eternity — that God, 
through him, has given a sinner yet room for repent- 
ance, to one weak in faith, an opportunity to grow 
stronger, to the devout, time to reach still greater per- 
fection. So, too, the merchant. He provides the 
necessaries and luxuries which perhaps satisfy only the 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


225 


lower^ sensuous nature of man^ but he is an instrument 
in the hands of God^ to smooth the way^ and break 
the paths for the blessings and promises which bring 
peace and joy in time and eternity. With this con- 
sciousness, he transacts his business cheerfully. It 
becomes a consecrated work to him. He no longer en- 
vies the clergyman whose ofldce is confined to purely 
spiritual things. Like him, he is a servant of the Lord, 
and desires that all should receive the blessing, even to 
the ends of the earth.'"' 

Now," remarked Mander, I understand ‘better 
what you said some time ago, that you respected the 
efforts of mankind only as they serve to advance the 
cause of truth." 

But," objected Oswald, are not large commercial 
towns precisely the places in wliich there is the most 
complete estrangement from spiritual things ? Does 
not the striving for wealth and profit, most surely divert 
us from the search after true riches 

All great cities are alike in this respect," said Hold. 

^ But irreligion is by no means the natural consequence 
of commerce. During the middle ages, the great com- 
mercial cities — remember Augsburg, with its noble fam- 
ilies, Fugger and Welser — were richer in piety, virtue, 
and honor, than many other towns, whose renown rested 
on their being the seat of a bishop, or a royal residence. 
Eeturn to your former calling. In the midst of corrup- 
tion, be a witness for the kingdom of God. Be in your 
mind and life the pattern of a merchant who knows 
that his real treasure is in heaven, who, wakeful and 
active in his business, ennobles it by the consciousness 
of his higher vocation. Even among scoffers be not 
10 * 


226 


THE HALLIG. 


ashamed of the Grospel of Christ, he ready to give an- 
swer to every man for the faith which is in you, and 
win respect even from those who do not share it. . Then 
you will be what you desire to be, a laborer in the vine- 
yard of the Lord, and perhaps more blessed in the har- 
vest for his kingdom, than if you had sought out places 
which are still lying entirely fallow/^ 

You open to me a prospect, said Oswald, whose 
attractions I can not fail to recognize, but you are send- 
ing me back to a conflict for which I am not yet sufii- 
ciently strong."^ 

But now you are clad in the panoply of light, armed 
with the sword of faith, and covered with its buckler. 
Yet you will have great need of constant care, of strict 
watchfulness. Though the Lord has done great things 
for you, Oswald, yours is yet but a budding faith, which 
needs further cultivation and development before it can 
refresh others with perfume and fruit. Pray God that 
he will strengthen and perfect you. Then he will set 
you for a witness without your pressing too earnestly 
to become one."' 

Oswald made no further objection, but he felt himself 
embarrassed by the evident distrust of the genuineness 
of his conversion, and might have suspected from this 
very feeling, that this distrust was well founded. 

For his further establishment and edification, a longer 
stay on the hallig, and the counsel and guidance of the 
pastor, were certainly necessary, and Oswald's triumph- 
ant joy arose chiefly from a review of the past, and was 
not sufficiently blended with a serious consideration of 
the beginning and the end of faith. 

Perhaps, too. Hold had not relied sufficiently on the 


THE HEW BIRTH. 


227 


life-giving power of faitli^ and did not respect this con- 
version so much as he ought^ because it was something 
entirely new to him. Besides^ he had previously known 
of young Mander^ only as much as the latter had chosen 
to show of himself, and thus he knew not that the 
gradual operations of the Spirit of God, which turns the 
hearts of men like streams of water, had long since pre- 
pared the dry ground for the seed. Even Oswald had 
not understood this preparation, and had seen in it only 
an impulse of childish weakness, which he thought it 
his duty to combat, and which he tried carefully to con- 
ceal, that he might not lose the name of a strong- 
minded man. And what witness could there be of the 
fearful torment of purification in that hour when every 
wave was a messenger which repeated the same sen- 
tence, It is appointed unto men once to die, and after 
that the judgment."" Who could testify of the severe 
conflict afterward, until the morning star rose in his 
soul. 

In his later years, Oswald had many sad proofs that 
he had trusted too much to himself in these first mo- 
ments of enthusiasm, that the morning glow of the sun 
of faith is not without succeeding clouds and storms, 
that sometimes we may soar above heights, which, after- 
ward, we only climb with difiiculty. His fight was not 
yet fought. He was still to strike into wrong paths. 
But he had gained this, that his eyes were opened to 
the true goal, and for this reason he was always able 
to return to the right way, and his tears of repentance 
were blessed by the consoling words, There is joy in 
heaven over one sinner that repenteth."" 

And indeed, few gain more by their faith in the Gos- 


228 


THE HALLIG. 


pel. Their good works are, perhaps, not more numerous 
than those of such as despise salvation through Christ, 
but they know that these works are without merit, and 
without righteousness, and do not esteem themselves on 
their account, rather confessing with all humility how 
far they are behind the example of their Lord. Per- 
haps they are not stronger to withstand temptation than 
others, but they feel their unworthiness, and returning 
in sorrow and repentance, they mourn over their own sin- 
fulness. So then, though externally they diJBEer little 
from others, within they are wholly unlike. Here is 
humility, there pride. Here a mourning for lack of 
righteousness, and an ever-growing consciousness of 
needing a Kedeemer ; there, careless excuses, thought- 
lessness, and reliance on what they Sail a good heart,"' 
and upon the few laudable efforts to satisfy the de- 
mands of the divine law. 

We say that few gain more than this from their faifch 
in the Gospel, and yet they will confess that even this is 
of infinite value. Still, far be it from us to offer any 
excuse for this half victory ; we would rather point to 
that |)erfection after which we must strive with prayers 
and entreaties, with sighs and tears, with watchings and 
struggles, with carefulness and hope ; the entire renew- 
ing of the spirit of our minds, that illumination of the 
inward man which is refiected in every thought and 
every feeling, in every word and every work ; which ban- 
ishes every unholy emotion, every worldly desire, as 
cloud and shadow fly before the sun ; that new birth 
by which the natural man is transformed to a child of 
God, and the life on earth to a life in heaven, so that the 
world itself becomes a new creation, the joys and the 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


229 


sorrows of which are witnesses that it is God's world. 
The idea of such a new birth is only comprehensible to 
those who believe in the doctrine of redemption, be- 
cause by this faith, man's affections — and love is the 
strongest motive power in heaven and upon earth — are 
directed toward the Divine nature ; but this faith is not 
regeneration itself, as our self-love may often persuade 
us, it is a necessary condition to it, but remains a sound- 
ing brass, a tinkling cymbal, if it does not become liv- 
ing through love, through that love which labors earn- 
estly for the sanctification of the heart and life. 

But what mortal may venture, then, to call himself 
regenerate ? 

Let us pray our Father, that he will forgive our 
weakness ; but woe to us if we forgive ourselves. 


CHAPTEK XIX. 


THE PARTING. 

Though corn-field and vineyard no harvest give, 

With a hopeful heart I would always live ; 

Though faith be not sight in my earthly ill, 

Yet my breaking heart shall look heavenw'ard still. 

The approach of winter reminded the strangers that 
it was time to think of their departure. Mander and 
Oswald were reluctant to fix a day for leaving a place 
which had been, to them^ an altar of the Most High. 
This island was^ indeed, their birth-place, for here they 
had first learned, with a true sense of life, to lisp their 
Father's name ; here they had found that rest from the 
perplexity and confusion of their own spirits, for which 
they had thirsted. Here the night had vanished, and 
the morning-star had risen in their hearts. Both 
shrank from returning to the now distasteful element 
of their former life. There they must feel themseh^es 
strangers, and they loved the hallig, which, though a 
new, was a blessed home to them. It was with pain, 
too, that they thought of leaving the pastor and his 
wife. They respected him as their guide to light and 
peace, as a man in whom knowledge was blended with 
the most childlike faith ; a shepherd of souls, who, 


THE PARTING. 


231 


with, all the variety of his acquirements^ with all his 
culture^ seemed only to live for the duties of his appar- 
ently insignificant post. They respected her lo\dng 
nature^ her quiet management in the domestic circle, 
and in both, their contentment in a more than humble 
earthly lot ; one in which thousands accustomed, as 
they, to something better, would have been completely 
miserable. They did not know that a hallig pastor was 
little respected, from the very fact of his being such, 
and that this title is sufficient to inspire many with a 
feeling of contempt ; but had they known this, they 
would have considered the privations and self-denials, 
the wnariness and the dangers of such a position, and 
would have represented the insignificance of the salary, 
the necessity of busying himself with household labors, 
and even the care of the sheep — the chief source in- 
deed from which his salary was derived — his isolation 
from the world and all intellectual intercourse ; they 
would have spoken, of all these, to such of Hold's pro- 
fessional brethren as might be disposed to complain of 
a want of congenial society and means to keep up with 
the progress of knowledge. Has the clergyman — their 
defense would have been something of this sort — whom 
you admire for his refinement of manner and his bear- 
ing in the highest circles, whom you have placed among 
the number of well-informed, highly cultivated, even 
learned men — has he passed the best years of his youth 
and manhood as a hallig pastor ? Has he tried what it 
is to pass from a rich world of enjoyment to such a 
state of privation, with a heart beating warmly for the 
whole human race, to be transplanted to such a forgot- 
ten soil, taken from a blooming paradise of youthful 


232 


THE HALLIG. 


liopes^ to find himself in a situation where not only 
man is poor^ hut nature herself is more desolate than 
the barren heath, to be banished to such a waste, desti- 
tute of every source of knowledge, of every intellectual 
refreshment, condemned to servile labor, a mere keeper 
of sheep ? Has he tried what it is to support a family 
on such a slender salary, earned in such a way, and 
then to see a threatened death in every inundation, and 
to know that if his wife and children survive him, they 
must be left as beggars to the charity of the world ? 
Ask him, on his conscience, if, under such circum- 
stances, he should still have been the man you so much 
praise ? Ask him whether he could have remained true 
to himself for years — and many a hallig pastor never 
leaves his sea-girt turf during his whole life — if he 
could have preserved that spirit which is satisfied with 
an inward reward, with the consciousness that his 
labors are blessed and which, therefore, sustains the 
mind and heart under such external disadvantages ? 

The writer of these pages is not ashamed to confess 
that during the early years of his ministry, he was him- 
self a hallig priest — as the clergymen on these islands 
are called, and not unfrequently in scorn — and perhaps 
would have been so still, had it not been found impossi- 
ble to rebuild his little church after it had been swept 
away for the second time ; and he has wished to say a 
few earnest words in defense of his early fellow-laborers, 
to those who regard them with contempt. These words 
will bring them no fruit, will prompt no hand to collect 
a fund to provide even for their intellectual necessities, 
and without which provision the most thinking and 
learned young clergyman can make no advances in 


THE PARTIHa. 


233 


knowledge, or even keep up with the progress of the 
day, and it must be a rare triumph over the weakness 
of human nature if want, solitude, elementary teach- 
ing, care of the sheep, dependance upon the price of 
wool, do not by degrees dwarf the former man, and un- 
fit him for further development. Only in him, who, 
before this trial, had become thoroughly penetrated with 
a true intellectual life, can we ever hope to find it |)re- 
served. For him who is placed in such circumstances 
before he is thoroughly matured, it is earnestly to be 
desired that his stay there should not be long. But 
even though it may be fruitless to you, his former com- 
panions, still he must speak with the warm zeal of a 
brother who has long felt the necessity of saying some- 
thing for you, and who reaches his hand to you over 
the water. If his words return empty to him from the 
closed hearts of those, who, from the high places of 
their worldly care, look down upon you, still they will 
be soothing to your hearts ; and it is the first time that 
a voice has been heard in your defense against the un- 
just opinions entertained of you, and the little consider- 
ation felt for your martyrdom in the service of the 
church. 

* The above remarks have induced some women of rank, in Copenha- 
gen, to make an attempt to improve the condition of the hallig clergy. 
Little as the success of their effort has answered their wishes, I can not 
pass over these exertions in silence. The interest of the capital collected 
will at least furnish an increased allowance for the desolate widow of 
some hallig pastor, in her extreme destitution, and so this mite, too, 
shall not lose its reward. Neither would I take back my greeting to 
that Danish island which was the only witness that these words, in be- 
half of my fellow-laborers, were not in vain, although the relief afforded 


234 


THE HALLIG. 


As the day of departure drew near, Idalia found it 
absolutely necessary to speak frankly to Godber. She 
would willingly have seen their connection entirely dis- 
solved without any such explanation. She had already 
anticipated, in thought, her return home, and fancied 
herself again in the brilliant circles of her native town, 
in full enjoyment of an animated existence. There too, 
she hoped her father and brother would soon recover 
from their strange whims, which were only fed by soli- 
tude and their long talks with Hold. Her aversion to 
their mysticism, as she called it, rendered the hallig al- 
together disagreeable to her ; and her dissatisfaction on 
this subject, extended even to her relations with Godber, 
who was so one with his island, that he seemed to -hes- 
itate whether he would sacrifice it, or his love. There 
was always the same tenderness in Godber's manner ; 
but she well knew that he would not leave his home 
for her without some hesitation ; and now that his 
passion found no longer a response in her heart, his af- 
fectionate devotion seemed to her unmanly and childish. 
She could not understand how she had ever been able to 
think of a closer connection with him. She could no 
longer see what, she had found extraordinary and at- 
tractive about him, and called herself a fool for having 
allowed her gratitude to her deliverer to go so far. She 
now seriously feared that he might decide to follow her, 

was less than was hoped. I here transcribe the last verse of that greet- 
ing, with a heart as warm as when I wrote it : 

Hail to the isle where civic wreaths 
Are crowning every head I 
There found we ready sympathy, 

And not less ready aid. 


THE PARTING. 


235 


and devised various plans^ in case lie sliould go witli them 
to Hamburg, to force him, by degrees, to retire into the 
back-ground, and gradually give up all hope of possess- 
ing her. But she must herself put the question, for he 
seemed resolved not to speak, although she had signified 
plainly enough her ovm. resolution, by laying aside the 
dress of the hallig, and had endeavored in vain, by her 
coldness and reserve to alienate him ; it seemed as if 
he were only the more magnetically attracted toward 
her, the more she repulsed him. He could not fail to see 
that his love was no longer returned as before ; and his 
passion for her was cooled as well ; but the necessity 
of having some object in whom he could forget himself 
still chained him to Idalia. He anticipated her painful 
question, saw the hour of separation drawing nearer and 
nearer, and yet anxiously avoided every allusion to it. 

One bright November afternoon he was standing on 
the sea-shore, and watching the play of the waves at 
his feet. A melancholy feeling gradually threw a soft 
vail over his thoughts and emotions, tranquilizing them 
as the mother does the restless child, when she wraps it 
in her drapery, and presses it to her breast. The past, 
the present, and the future, seemed blended together 
into a pensive vision of a quiet life, in which all his 
dreams and longings were realized ; but whether this 
picture was lighted by the rising beams of morning, or 
I the rosy glow of departing day, he could not tell ; that 
it was only an image, only a longing, not a reality, the 
tears which rolled over his cheeks were sufficient evi- 
dence. He stood long in that forgetfulness, which, after 
all, is no forgetfulness, where the wings of the brightest 
dream are draped in mourning, and can not raise the 


236 


THE HALLIG. 


heart to any great heights of light and happiness. In 
this mood, his hallig seemed to him the only spot upon 
earth which could satisfy him, the place in which alone 
the wounds of his heart could be healed. It was impos- 
sible for him to fancy himself in the midst of social 
tumult ; and he shrank from the fearful loneliness and 
abandonment, which he should feel among men who 
were engaged in the loud bustle of life. 

The pastor — in whom exactly opposite feelings had 
been excited by his intercourse with the guests of the 
island, by their animating conversations, by the renewed 
exchange of thoughts, by the recollection of the activity 
of the great world, and who oftener than before, looked 
longingly over the water which separated him from the 
mainland, and its spiritual and political interests— sur- 
prised Godber in his dream. 

Their conversation soon turned to the subject in 
which both, each in his way, were especially interested. 

So, then, you are going to leave us T' said Hold. 

Ho, no,^^ replied Godber, warmly ; I shall not 
leave my home.^^ 

And does Idalia remain here T' asked Hold, with 
astonishment. 

I do not know,"" replied Godber, gently, and in a 
hesitating tone. 

You do not know !"" exclaimed the pastor, at the 
same time, looking inquiringly at the young man, who 
stood before him, silent and with downcast eyes. You 
do not know ! Godber, have you examined yourself ? 
are you sure that you are taking the right course 
And as Godber still did not answer, he went on earn- 
estly, Certainly you would never be happy in a great 


THE PARTING. 


237 


city, in an active and exciting life, among men who 
would only ridicule such tears as are now standing in 
your eyes. You, with your quiet, simple habits, would 
never feel yourself at home in their brilliant circles. 
For the son of a hallig, a hallig is the only soil in 
which his being can thrive ; nowhere else can he be 
happy. And Idalia — the inclination she has shown for 
you is merely the excitement of gratitude, a conse- 
quence of unusual solitude, the filling up of idle hours, 
or at most, an impulse of passion which she could ex- 
change as easily as her fashionable dresses.'’^ 

Godber colored deeply with mortification at these 
words ; and Hold, observing it, took his hand, and said. 
It humbles your pride that I say this ; it is painful 
to you that another should know the fact that you 
have over-estimated yourself. But it would rouse your 
pride still more to learn it first at her side, when no re- 
treat was possible, when you were fastened by a holy 
bond to the magic sphere of her brilliant being, and 
when you felt yourself uncomfortable there, and she al- 

II lowed you to perceive that you were only a disagreeable 
shadow. And it is not your fault that you have trusted 
her honeyed words and flattering ways. It is rather to 
your honor that you could be deceived by it. The man 
who can say, ^I was never deceived,^ has pronounced 
judgment against himself ; and I would shun his friend- 
ship as much as I would seek that of one whose heart 
was bleeding from the wounds inflicted by confidence 
^ betrayed. For this reason, Godber, and because I 
I promised myself to do so, when in the boat you brought 
L to restore me to rny wife and child, I press myself upon 
you, and beg for your full confidence. I will never prove 


238 


THE IIALLIG. 


untrue to it so long as I remember the moment when 
your shout and that of your companions, came ringing 
over the waves Avhich were playing around my head/^ 

Godber resisted no longer ; a glance of his eye in 
which stood a grateful tear, and a hearty pressure of 
the hand, showed that the reserve he had hitherto 
maintained, was entirely overcome by the cordial man- 
ner in which he had been approached. 

Godber now spoke frankly of his position and his 
feelings. He did not conceal the fact that Idalia's con- 
duct for some time past, had greatly wounded, and 
almost convinced him that she wished to see her con- 
nection with him dissolved. 

^^Then let it be so said Hold. Separate what 
naturally stands apart as far as pole from pole. And 
if your heart bleeds, cast it, with all its wounds, on 
your heavenly Father's heart. He will know how to 
heal it so that it shall come forth safely from the severe 
conflict, with only scars to show that one may confi- 
dently trust its strength and purity." 

Hold trusted more to the future than Godber, for the 
latter alone knew the self-reproach which tormented 
him whenever he allowed himself to reflect seriously. 
It was but a show of strength which gave him courage 
to have a last decisive conversation with Idalia. The 
foundation of his weakness lay deeper than in disap- 
pointed affection, for in that case a return to entire 
peace of mind would have been very easy, since he was 
now on the point of breaking a chain that had thus far 
withheld him from the happiness for which he had 
toiled patiently and hopefully during long years, and 
which, even through the flames of a new passion, vome- 


THE PARTING. 


239 


times beamed on him as a milder, friendlier star. But 
if his love for Idalia v/ere to seem hereafter only as a 
dream which fades on our waking, and scarcely sur- 
vives in our memoiy, could he also forget that for her 
sake he had forsaken the ship whose helm was confided 
to him, that for her sake he had been faithless to his 
betrothed Maria ? If she could forgive him, could he 
forgive himself ? So long as he had any hope of possess- 
ing her for whom he had given up so much, there was a 
bright side to his sacrifice, an advantage, though per- 
haps too deeply jiurchased, an altar on which he had 
laid his offering. Now that he was about, himself, to 
annihilate this hope, it fell back upon his heart like a 
dark, heavy cloud, through which no beam of morning 
could break to enlighten the prospect of his future 
days. Only one thing was clear to him ; that it was 
his immediate duty to separate from Idalia. All the 
future was night and darkness for him, while Hold 
looked forward, with happy sympathy, to the renewal 
of his former relations with Maria. 

Do you go with your father ?'’ said Godber the 
next morning to Idalia in a tone which made the ques- 
I tion sound as if the answer were already certain ; for 
' a sleepless night of reflection had only fixed him the 
1 more decidedly in his resolution to wrap himself, with 
despairing courage, in the dark drapery of an unavoid- 
able destiny. 

Idalia trembled visibly. Was it a last feeling of 
affection for the youth, or was it the sudden approach 
of the long wished-for moment of separation, which 
agitated her so violently ? She could not immediately 
answer. She was seeking for vords, which, while they 


240 


THE HALLIG. 


should cut off every hope of possessing her, should pain 
him as little as possible, and as is usual in such cases, 
her reply wounded him most severely. 

How many thanks do I owe you, Godber ! Without 
you, I should never again have seen my native place, 
for which I long so much. Never'" — and she took his 
hand and pressed it warmly — never can I forget how 
you threw yourself into the rolling sea for me. Never 
will my gratitude to you cease, never can I fail earn- 
estly to desire your happiness. And have we not 
amused ourselves pleasantly with each other on this 
island, and shall we not always think of it as a period 
of happy, childish relaxation, such as we can seldom 
enjoy in this world ?" 

Godber colored with shame and indignation. So she 
could call amusement, what had cost him ami poor Ma- 
ria the happiness of their lives. He pressed his lips 
together and stood for some time like one doubtful 
whether it were best to bridle his anger or let it break 
forth. 

Idalia became more and more disturbed, the longer 
his silence lasted. She tried to summon all her pride 
and turn away from him, but the consciousness that she 
had done wrong, mingled with a certain fear of him 
whom she had so deeply wounded, triumphed, and she 
said with a caressing tone. 

What a holiday it will be for me, if you should 
visit us some day, in Hamburg. Then we will talk 
over old times, and you shall see how faithfully my 
memory has preserved the smallest circumstance con- 
nected with our own life together on this island." j 

Godber had heard nothing of these last words, but I 


THE PARTING. 


241 


the angry tumult of his soul suddenly subsided to a 
sadness which filled his eyes with tears ; a change of 
emotion natural to a gentle disposition which has not 
been hardened by frequent excitement. The extreme 
tension of his features and his whole frame was followed 
by a relaxation which alarmed Idalia even more than 
the appearance of anger^ as she feared an exciting scene 
which she wished to avoid at any price, because it 
would lead to nothing, and because, on witnessing 
Godber's deep agitation, she found that she was not 
so completely mistress of her own heart as she had 
supposed. 

But Godber bethought himself that Providence had 
so ordered it ; that he himself desired the separation ; 
that in fact, this separation had long since taken place 
and only a word was wanting to confirm it. He turned 
quickly round and hastened away without casting one 
farewell glance at Idalia. She would have much pre- 
ferred a more friendly parting. She hesitated a mo- 
ment whether she should not follow him, and say a few 
more affectionate words to him ; but before she could 
resolve, it was too late. Godber hurried down the 
wharf and was soon in his boat alone upon the sea. He 
did not return until after the departure of his guests. 

Here we, too, may take leave of Idalia, only casting 
a hasty glance into her future. Had she known how to 
elevate her affection for Godber into true womanly love, 
she might perhaps have overcome his disinclination to 
leave the hallig, and he might have forgotten how 
dearly he had purchased the happiness of being at her 
side. But having once in her life experienced such de- 
votion and thrust it from her, could she expect ever 
11 


242 


THE HALLIG. 


again to find a heart that saw all its desires fulfilled 
only in her love? 

Again in Hamburg, she was soon engaged in all the 
amusements in which she had formerly lived, and 
eventually married a man whose means and inclination 
permitted her to shine as a wife in all those follies 
which fill up time and never satisfy the heart, hut 
rather spur it on to a more headlong chase after new 
objects to gratify vanity and the love of pleasure. 
What emotions she may have felt, what memories of 
the past may have risen during her childless married 
life, when in the hours of solitude, never to be entirely 
avoided, she sat leaning her head upon her hand, the 
forgotten embroidery lying on her knee, and with half- 
opened eyes staring at vacuity, until, startled by the 
falling of a hot tear, she would spring suddenly up and 
pass her fingers impetuously over the strings of her 
harp as if the wild notes were forcibly to call forth a 
joy to which her heart was a stranger, he may judge 
who understands the following verses : 

Every life hath one May morning, 

One auspicious hour ; if then 

Thou dost let it pass with scorning, 

It returneth not again. 

Eortuue once draws kindly nigh thee, 

Beckons thee with open hand ; 

If neglected she pass by thee. 

Thou henceforth art ever banned. 

Tears of thine will never move her 
Thy sad path to cross once more ; 

Thou may’st plow the ocean over. 

Thou may’st tread the furthest shore, 


THE PARTIKG. 


243 


Gather round thee all earth’s treasures, 
Spread them out in shining rows ; 

Pill thy stately halls with pleasures, 

All the pleasures that life knows. 

Then from brimming goblets drinking — 

Ah I thou sigh’st in all this bliss ,* 

For thy banquet, thou art thinking, 

Lacks the consecrating kiss ; 

And the wreath thy brow entwining. 

Lacks the slighted evergreen ; 

For the flowers that there are shining 
Blossom but to fade, I ween. 

Once thou might’st have hoped, unchidden ; 
Fortune wooed thee once in vain ; 

Eden’s gates stood wide, unbidden, 

Once, — ^but hope it not again. 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE COMMUKION. 

WLat God, OTir Father, to his own hath given, 

With warring words oh, seek not to define; 

Question not that which hath its root in heaven; 

It claims thy childlike faith by right divine. 

Mander and Oswald wished to receive the Lord's 
Supper as a seal of their new covenant with him, while 
still with the congregation to which they had become so 
much attached. To her father's question, whether she 
would unite with them in the sacred ceremony, Idalia 
replied, that her thoughts were too much occupied with 
the prospect of their return home, to permit her to take 
part in the celebration with proper devotion. 

It is certainly most agreeable to us, when we can 
clothe our I pray thee have me excused" in the ef- 
fective dress of a timid reverence for the Holy One ; 
and there are persons who, if we are to believe them, 
avoid the church their lives long, solely from the con- 
scientious fear of giving only a divided attention to the 
Divine service, and neglect family worship as well, wait- 
ing to the end of their days, in the hope of being some- 
time in a truly devotional frame of mind. 

Mander inquired of Hold, when he announced to him 


THE COMMUNION. 


245 


his own and his son's wish to receive the communion, 
what his views were, with regard to the holy Eucharist. 
Hold replied : 

I would rather you had not inquired, hut, undis- 
turbed by contending opinions, you had resigned your 
wsoul, with entire passivity, to the impression of this 
celebration, and thus learned from itself what it should 
be to you. Perhaps this ordinance is not the same to 
all, but suited to the wants and capabilities of each ; 
and I would rather have heard from you, what worth 
you had found in this treasure of Christianity, than have 
given you a bias toward some preconceived opinion ; for 
such discussion is hardly practicable without giving rise 
to divisions in the Church, which deprive the Supper of 
its true character of a communion." 

But there can be only one true view," objected Man- 
der ; and he only can derive from the sacrament its 
full blessing, who knows what the Lord intended by it." 

All blessing comes from above," was Hold's answer ; 
and I believe there are many who approach the Lord's 
table with entirely different views, and yet retire from 
it with equal blessing, because, when they receive the 
elements, they think no more of their opinions, but re- 
sign themselves to the influence which the solemnity it- 
self has upon them. Certainly this influence will be 
the more sure and the more lasting with those who, 
both before and after the ceremony, understand its full 
significance." 

So far you have been my instructor ; continue to 
be so begged Mander. Your judgment, in consid- 
eration of what I already owe to you, must have the 
weight of authority with me." 


246 


THE HALLia. 


My authority should have weight with you only in 
BO far as long years of reflection upon the sacred ordin- 
ances of the Gospel may be better than the first insight 
into the truth of the revelation of God in Christ. Only 
permit me to say once more, I do not connect the bless- 
ing of the celebration which you are contemplating so ^ 
much with a full understanding of its character, as with 
the influence of God's grace upon the willing heart. 
You should not, therefore, approach the Lord's table 
with the expectation of exj)eriencing this thing or that, 
but rather wait for the promise which belongs to the oc- 
casion. Do not bind yourself, or your devotion, to this 
or that idea of the communion, but be willing and 
ready to receive, with entire submission, what God offers 
to you in it. I, for my part, stand on the ground of the 
church's teachings." 

^^If we consider the divine revelation through Christ 
as a miracle of God's redeeming grace, by which an en- 
tirely new means of communication with heaven enters 
into the life of man — not a higher development of what 
previously existed, but something entirely dissimilar — 
as an elevation of the natural man, by which he is 
made a recipient of that life which was with the Father, 
and which has appeared upon earth — then we can not 
deny its continued existence and constant action to be a 
standing miracle. If, instead of a mediation between 
that which is above and that which is below, linking its 
spiritual gifts to those already bestowed on us — as is the 
case with us in our most sacred hours of devotion, as 
was the case with the prophets in an extraordinary de- 
gree — there is promised a Mediator in whom Heaven 
and earth are become one ; so we must not presume to 


THE COMMUNION. 


247 


measure the teachings, the blessings, and the promises 
of such a Mediator by the rules we apply to things that 
are obedient to laws, according to which Heaven and 
earth remain widely separated, and can never be brought 
near each other, except by this bond of spiritual com- 
munion. We should rather expect that whatever flows 
from this great fact, should not only proclaim the fact a 
miracle, but should itself possess a miraculous character. 
So with the Lord's Supper. It is not merely to renew 
the memory of the fact of expiation, but it is the fact 
itself which is to be renewed in the believer. In this 
sacrament he gives himself anew to me, not I myself 
to him. As redemption was conditioned by his bodily 
life and sufferings upon this earth, so is the Lord's Sup- 
per not only spiritual food for the soul, but a food both 
Heavenly and earthly, by which we become his, and he 
ours, in a perfect union. In the sacrament is Christ 
entire ; the instructor, the redeemer, the sufferer, and 
the conqueror ; the crucified and the risen, the son of 
Mary and the Son of God, the first not less than the 
last. While in every other ordinance, sometimes the one, 
and sometimes the other, stands out the most promi- 
nent, in this sacrament hotli are united in one, and are 
conjointly received by us. Without the bodily presence 
of Christ in the Lord's Supper, redemption becomes a 
fact in time, which lives on only in faith ; it has entirely 
left the kingdom of the earthly, and has ascended into 
the kingdom of the spiritual ; while, on the contrary, 
it should also survive, on its earthly side, in the holy 
communion, not only because Christ still lives in the 
soul of the believer, but because he is himself actually 
present to the communicant. For his living on in our 


248 


THE HALLIG. 


souls is always only our life in liim^ dependent on our 
understanding and our devotion ; it is not^ in very deed 
and trutli^ his life in us ; it is ourselves^ not he. But 
our age is not poorer than that of the first disciples^ if 
we do not make it poorer ourselves. We have not only 
his teachings, blessings, and promises, but we have 
himself, his body and his blood. To us also, is the new 
creation offered, which, penetrating and transfiguring 
our souls, as well as our bodies, raises us to unity with 
him. ^ How can such things be Ms not here the ques- 
tion, and all theories and formulas are follies. The only 
question is. Is this doctrine of the communion as taught 
by the theory and formulas of the Lutheran church 
— so far as human speech is capable of expressing such 
things without glozing or subtilizing — in accordance 
with the words of Holy Writ, with the whole wonder- 
ful counsel of God in the redemption of the children of 
men, with the fact of redemption itself, and with the 
faith of those who deserve to be called high priests in 
the great congregation of the Christian Church ? By 
this last reference, I do not intend to put forward any 
human authority, as such faith must find its support in 
the general accordance of the answers obtained from 
the other sources, but I would maintain that, as intel- 
lectual knowledge is the fruit of our intellect, so spirit- 
ual truth is the fruit of the divine Spirit. This Spirit 
has its special times and seasons for strengthening the 
faith of the Church. For that which strengthens the 
faith of the individual is in no way to be connected with 
the labors of councils, or with the midnight studies of 
the theologian ; but its cradle is a heart, which, with 
its world-overcoming faith, does indeed overcome the 


THE COMMUNION. 


249 


world — a heart that not merely gathers a few sparks 
from dust and ashes^ but is enkindled by a holy flame, 
and is purified and enlightened by this flame, to a tem- 
ple from which Grod willingly sends forth his voice to 
the world. Therefore whoever would put forth new 
theories and new formulas in spiritual things, let him 
not only ask himself what he knows, but also, what is 
his life in God and his walk before him. With scho- 
lastic learning and critical acumen one may venture to 
cut up a Homer ; but the inspiration still glowing in 
the divided members, will flash up again to a clear 
flame, and a new figure comes forth in all its pristine 
strength and beauty. If now, this dry, cold chemistry, 
even in its analysis of the products of man’s mind and 
heart, like the knight of the sorrowful countenance, ob- 
tains only a brief victory which makes subsequent de- 
feat the more certain, with what face can it presume to 
experiment in the realm of the spiritual ? So then the 
true doctrine of divine things, as also the true formula 
for its expression, can be given only by the Spirit of 
God ; and this requires temple and altar, the heights 
of Horeb and the plains of Mamre, hearts whose wings 
are capable of an eagle’s flight, men who have courage 
and humility enough to pray God for illumination.” 

But,” remarked Mander, do^s not the Keformed 
Church,’*" which owes her being to just such men as you 
have described, regard the Lord’s Supper merely as a 
commemorative celebration 

The Eeformed Church too,” was Hold’s reply, 
through the influence of Calvin, soon inclined toward 
a deeper significance ; although in the Catholic and Lu- 
* The Reformed^ as distinguished from the Lutheran Church. 


250 


THE HALL I a. 


theran Churches only — however little they may agree 
in the nicer points of this doctrine and its consequences 
— will he found a deeper and a juster estimate of this 
sacrament ; for every thing which we have endeavored 
to add to it through the excitement of feelings to the 
highest point, by meditating upon the Lord, only pro- 
duces a certain shrinking from considering it merely as 
commemorative. They feel the necessity of giving the 
congregation a nutriment which is not mere crumbs, 
but a satisfying bread of life ; and they but add spices, 
forgetting that these are only designed to give flavor, 
and not to content hunger.^" 

How, then,'' inquired Mander, can you associate 
such forgetfulness with the high priesthood which you 
have just attributed to those men who are pillars in the 
church of God, and among whom you reckon Zwinglius 
and Calvin 

^^Eemember, that to the authority of these Gospel 
heroes, I found a check in the comparison of their ac- 
cordance with the testimony of other witnesses. Where 
there is agreement, I submit cheerfully ; and there is 
this agreement in the vital point of the Gospel, the 
doctrine of redemption ; where there is not this agree- 
ment, I search with more zeal the Word of life, but I 
rejoice when the truth that I And, has many other wit- 
nesses in the Church of God." 

‘‘1 must frankly confess," said Mander, ^Ghat the 
words, ^ Do this in remembrance of me,' seem to me so 
natural in the mouth of the Saviour at the moment 
when they were spoken — just before the death upon the 
cross — and the institution to which they referred, seems 
so naturally connected with the hour of separation, that 


THE COMMUNION. 


251 


I can not but regard it in its nature and character, as 
only designed for the maintenance of a lively recollec- 
tion of the sufferings and death of its Founder/' 

On the other hand, I must confess," replied Hold — 
^^so do judgments differ — that nothing seems more 
strange to me than a ceremony in memory of him who 
is the way, the truth, and the life for us ; in whom the 
present improved condition of society had its rise and 
progress, to whom we are consecrated in baptism, in 
whose light we breathe, in whose congregation we live, 
to whom we owe joy, peace, and blessedness, in life 
and death. Can he who said, ^ Heaven and earth shall 
pass away, but my words shall not pass away,' and, ^ I 
am with you even unto the end of the world can he 
have intended to establish in this Supper, only a com- 
memorative festival, such as one might have ordained, 
who feared that his teachings and blessings would be 
forgotten, and yet desired to live on in the memory of 
man, as an individual who had been useful in his day ? 
Must not, indeed, such an ordinance lose its signifi- 
cance in the Christian church, in proportion as the 
church more zealously cherishes the memory of its 
Lord ? The more entirely a soul belongs to him, the 
more deeply a soul loses itself in the fullness of his 
blessings and promises, so much the less important 
would be an ordinance which should only remind it not 
to forget him. 

The Apostle Paul speaks further of the Lord's Suj)- 
per in such a manner that all idea of regarding it 
merely as a memorial, must vanish. He says, ^ Where- 
fore, whosoever shall eat this bread and drink this cup 
of the Lord, unworthily, shall be guilty of the body 


252 


THE HALLIG. 


and blood of the Lord. But let a man examine him- 
self, and so let him eat of that bread and drink of that 
cup. For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eat- 
eth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning 
the Lord's body.' " 

Permit me," interposed Mander, to ask a question 
on this point. Could the first disciples who sat at the 
table with their Master, have enjoyed in the bread and 
wine, such a sacrament as you are supposing, since the 
Lord himself was then present with them 

need not answer this question," said Hold, until 
you have replied to my objections to regarding it merely 
as a memorial, until you have shown that the theory by 
which it is endeavored to give the communion a higher 
character v/ithout confessing the bodily presence, is 
really any thing more than the superadding of acces- 
sories, which, with all their apparent abundance, leave 
it, after all, simply a commemorative ceremony, the 
joining in which has no other effect on the believer than 
such as may be derived from any lively refreshment of 
our memory of the Lord and Kedeemer. But I would 
remind you, that not much depends upon the answer to 
your question. If we recognize in the Lord's Supper 
a church ordinance for all future Christian congrega- 
tions — and this but few have denied — so it may well 
have a significance for the later professor, different from 
that which it had for the first disciples to whom the 
visible presence of the Eedeemer was itself a sacrament, 
an import which it first received after our Lord had 
ascended again to his heavenly Father. This other 
significance consists only in this, that we have in the 
bread and wine what they had visibly before them. 


THE COMMUNION. 


253 


The virtue of the Supper^ its sacramental fullness, is 
the same, only sight with them, faith with us. Yet I 
feel how uncertain are all our explanations in this realm 
of the spiritual. The divine can only be experienced.^^ 

You leave me with such a feeling of uncertainty in 
my heart,'" said Mander, with a sigh, that I regret 
having asked any questions." 

I was satisfied beforehand, that you would derive 
no other fruit from this discussion. But perhaps here- 
after, you may say with me to those who do not rev- 
erence the Lord's Supper in its full significance. Do not 
strip your church of her holy ornaments, take not the 
crown from her head, do not sever the roots of her life 
from an inward actual communion with him who came 
forth from the Father that he might testify of him. For 
the rest, you should approach the Lord's table with de- 
votion and submission, thankfully receiving what out 
of his fullness he bestows. He is something to all who 
come to him, and he so draws them to himself that he 
becomes every thing to them. You will not miss his 
blessing." 

The hour for the celebration had arrived. The whole 
congregation had assembled for the communion, accord- 
ing to special announcement made on the previous Sab- 
bath ; for on the halligs this ceremony can not take 
place at stated intervals, owing to the winds and inun- 
dations which often prevent the inhabitants from at- 
tending worship. The little church was contiguous to 
the pastor's house, or rather, indeed, under the same 
roof with the dwelling. After the conclusion of the 
hymn. Hold approached the altar and gave a short, im- 
pressive address, whose simple style seemed intended 


254 


THE HALLIG. 


for the comprehension of his ordinary hearers, while, 
from its very simplicity and the constant presentation 
of that which had not yet ripened to clear insight in 
the minds of the two who were now drawing near the 
table of the Lord for the first time, with sincere longing 
for the promised blessing — it produced upon them a 
truly edifying and strengthening impression. At the 
conclusion of this address, the oldest person in the con- 
gregation, a man with snow white hair, advanced to- 
ward the pastor, and bowing his head, spoke with a 
voice trembling with emotion, and the feebleness of old 
age, as follows, while all present rose from their seats : 

Dear and respected pastor, I speak for myself and 
in behalf of the rest of the congregation. I entreat you 
to hear my confession, and repeat to me the promise of 
pardon. 

I poor, sinful man, confess and lament that I have 
transgressed again and again the commands of the Lord 
my God, often sinning against both him and my neigh- 
bor, and truly, I justly merit God's sentence of tem- 
poral and spiritual death. But I do earnestly repent 
of all my sins, and am heartily sorry for them, and I 
have no consolation except in the grace of God, which 
is greater than my transgressions, and in the dear merits 
of my Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. I come, there- 
fore, now in the day of grace, that I may receive for- 
giveness, and therewith new joy in God and strength to 
sanctification through his Spirit. Amen." 

This circumstance, unexpected to the strangers, failed 
not to produce its effect upon their hearts. Mander felt 
deeply how important it was that the congregation 
should take such an active part in this solemnity. For 


THE COMMUNION. 


255 


the moment he felt himself one with the venerable old 
man who was speaking for alL It seemed his own con- 
fession^ his own prayer, and he therefore felt more clearly 
and significantly, that he was approaching the commun- 
ion with humble entreaties in expectation of the prom- 
ises, than he would have done had the pastor alone 
spoke. Oswald trembled violently. Every word that 
the old man said, sank into his soul. It seemed to him 
as if the prayer came from his own lips, but as if it were 
more heartfelt, more forcible, more earnest ; while it 
expressed his own longings, it became, as it were, a call 
from the depths, a cry for mercy, a sigh of aspiration, 
upon whose answer his life depended. 

When the old man had ended, the pastor folded his 
hands, raised his eyes in silent prayer, and then, after a 
short pause, said, laying his right hand on the head of the 
venerable man before him, who, in the mean time, had 
kneeled on the steps of the altar : 

He who came into the world, not to condemn the 
world, but that the ’world through him might be 
blessed, he who calls the weary and the heavy laden to 
himself that he may refresh them, he says, through the 
office which he has bestowed upon me, to you and to 
this cougregation wffiich have made true confession 
through you : ^ Be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven 
thee.^’^ 

As the minister now stretched forth his hands toward 
the whole congregation, and repeated the words once 
more, Thy sins be forgiven thee,'" a vail seemed to 
fall from the souls of Mander and Oswald. 

The Grospel had now become to them light, power, 
and life, and all obscurity, weakness and lukewarmness 


256 


THE HALLIG. 


melted like the last cloudy day of winter, before the 
conquering breath of spring. They felt themselves so 
open, so ready to receive every influence from above, so 
clear and decided in their faith, so light and happy in 
their confldence in the fulfillment of the promise, that 
the realm of the spiritual, in which the Divine mani- 
fests itself to the human, seemed to them a region al- 
together natural, where they felt themselves already 
quite at home, and they drew near to the table of the 
Lord, fully confessing their faith in the whole doctrines 
of their church. 


CHAPTER XXL 


THE FAREWELL. 

Life hath sorrows which, unspoken, 
The resolved heart may dare ; 

But have words the silence broken, 
Broken is the strength to bear. 


The departure of the strangers was fixed for the next 
day. The business^ which had detained them, had 
been completed some days previous, to the satisfaction 
of all parties ; and Mander and Oswald took leave of 
the inhabitants of the hallig by a visit to every house. 
All received them as dear friends whom they could 
never hope to see again ; and took leave of them with a 
solemnity becoming a last interview ; nowhere without 
tears on the part of the islanders, always so sensible to 
every kindness shown to them. These people — espec- 
ially those on the hallig of which we are spealdng, and 
on which, so far as the church records show, no illegit- 
imate child was ever born, and within the memory of 
the oldest person, no angry quarrel had ever existed — 
are quite too easily disposed to consider the world, with 
the exception of their little island, as given up to infi- 
delity and disorder, particularly the larger towns ; and 
the fact that the strangers had united with them in the 


258 


THE HALLIG. 


communion service^ had raised them so much in their 
estimation that they regarded them with a sort of ad- 
miring reverence. They did not know that their island 
had proved to their guests an Emmaus, where they first 
recognized the Lord. Each family gave special thanks 
to Mander for the silver candelabra which he had pre- 
sented to the church for the altar^ and which the pastor, 
for certain reasons, had not placed on the table the day 
previous, but had shown in the evening to such persons 
as had assembled at his house. But their most painful 
leave-taking was from Hold. As an indication of their 
friendship and gratitude, they made presents to the 
pastor and his wife, which were received without affected 
reluctance. The difiiculty, too, with which these things 
had been brought from so great a distance, and the 
time required for it, were indications that their friend- 
ship was to last longer than their brief stay on the 
island. Hold received every thing gratefully, declining 
only a cask of wine, which was to have been sent to his 
house, as he had long since ceased to make use of it as a 
drink. But, even here, he was obliged to yield partially, 
as Mander insisted that it might be serviceable to the 
sick and suffering in the congregation, though the 
pastor himself might have no occasion for it. 

Who could have foreseen, on listening to this discus- 
sion, that the lives of several persons, and the health of 
the whole congregation were to depend upon the recep- 
tion of this gift, at first so positively declined. 

Oswald took leave of Maria with more emotion even 
than he had felt at parting with the other islanders, 
and Mander deposited with the pastor a sum of money 
for Maria and Godber, hoping, as did Hold, that they 


THE FAREWELL. 


259 


might soon be happily united^ and promising to make 
it a yearly stipend. Also the ring of betrothal which 
she had once given to Godber, and had withdrawn from 
his finger during his illness, Idalia had requested her 
father to restore to her. Mander gave it to the pastor, 
that he might choose the proper moment in which to re- 
turn it. 

The travelers found the whole congregation assembled 
on the shore ; and after one more pressure of the hand, 
and one more hearty farewell, with tears in their eyes, 
the father and son went on board. Idalia turned more 
than once her swimming eyes back toward the little 
island which was soon to disappear in the mist. She 
would have gladly bid the vessel stay, not for the sake 
of landing again, but to keep the hallig in her sight. 
All her thoughts and emotions were in confusion ; and 
she could no more direct them to the future, than she 
could center them on the past. It would have been a 
comfort to her, if the ship that was bearing her steadily 
onward, had been overtaken by the ebb, and detained 
between the two shores, just as she was herself midway 
between the past and future. Her first steps on the 
mainland were tremulous and staggering, like the un- 
certain tread of one who first sets foot on shore, after 
having been accustomed to the motion of a ship during 
a long storm. 

The islanders remained on the shore so long as the fog 
permitted them to catch a glimpse of the vessel ; and 
mutual signals of farewell were exchanged, long ajfter 
it was possible to know whether they could be seen by 
each other. 

During the whole day the pastor was in a mood which 


1 


260 


THE HALLIG. 


he called sadness at parting from his friends ; but it was 
more than this separation which moved him so deeply. 
All the dreams of his youth had been awakened by his 
conversations with those visitors from the great world 
in which he had himself formerly moved, so rich in hope, 
so full of life. His early friends, from whom he had quite 
disappeared since his transfer to the hallig, beckoned 
him anew into their circle. The lands through which he 
had traveled by their side, lay once more before him in 
all their beauty. The active movement of the political 
world, of which now and then a solitary journal fur- 
nished a very meager account, presented itself again to 
his mind, like a magical picture which suddenly shines 
before us bright in the midst of darkness. The rich 
field of knowledge spread out its blossoms and perfumes 
before his soul, in the most attractive manner ; but like 
a beautiful garden which v/e may look at through grat- 
ings, and yet into which we can not enter. And here 
was this barren hallig, with this briny waste around it 
— this dense fog which enveloped him as if to shut him 
out forever from the world. Had he placed to his 
thirsty hps the ciip of Djemschid upon whose brim the 
past, the present, and the future, were painted, only now 
to pine his life away for another draught ? With what 
entirely different feelings, with what fair hopes for his 
earthly life, had he trod the mountains of Switzerland, 
wandered along the river-banks of his native country, 
from which he was now perhaps banished forever, for- 
gotten on a miserable sod, surrounded by a turbid sea, 
obliged to submit to every variety of privation and self- 
denial ! He went down to the beach. He gazed wist- 
fully into the mist, as if his eye could penetrate it, and 


THE FAREWELL. 


261 


follow the thoughts which flew heyond the sea, and 
swept over mountain and valley. His longing found 
expression in a song which came like a deep sigh from 
his heart : 


Float away, oh mournful measure I 
Greet once more my native strand, 

Dear, and beautiful, and sacred; 

Greet my German Fatherland. 

Greet those verdant hills and valleys 
Where rings clear the hunter’s note ; 

WTiere the blue and shining waters 
Play around the fisher’s boat. 

Where the avalanches thunder 
Down the Staubbach’s silvery mist ; 

Oh I to climb those snow-capped mountains, 
Breathe the air that them hath kissed. 

Where, as decked with bridal chaplets, 
Glowing in the evening red, 

Jungfrau lifts her snowy forehead — 

Oh, once more her slopes to tread I 

Or wander on thy banks, 0 Saale, 

Where the pine its arched roof rears 

O’er the monuments of heroes. 

Crumbled by the storms of years. 

Everywhere, along the Danube, 

On the Elbe and on the Rhine, 

Is my Fatherland the worthy 
Birthplace of the German line. 

Rich alike in oaks and vineyards. 

Rough with rocks, and soft' with fiowers. 

Everywhere you trace the features 
With which all her sons she dowers. 


262 


THE HALLia. 


Float away, oh mournful measure I 
Greet once more my native land; 

Every beauty, every pleasure 
Liveth in my Fatherland. 

Ah, in vain do my complainings 
Wake the hidden pain once more; 

No mild breeze will deign to bear them 
Kindly to my native shore. 

Ocean’s waves are roaring round me, 
Ocean mists my vision vail. 

All unanswered are my greetings. 

Lost upon the adverse gale. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


REPENTANCE. 

The present and the past thou know^st, 

But every rising day 
Doth consecrate thee yet anew — 

To what, there’s none can say. 

Soon after tlie departure of the strangers, Godber 
returned to the hallig and continued to live in his 
house, quite alone. When any one saw him, he turned 
away with a melancholy look, and avoided all conver- 
sation, with a painful shyness. His house, and his 
wharf, during his long absence^ and especially since the 
death of his father, had become quite ruinous ; but he 
did nothing toward the necessary repairs, and did not 
seem to observe that the waves, during the stormy 
Christmas week, had caused great damage, and made 
his stay there even unsafe. 

The pastor often went to him and endeavored to re- 
vive in him new hopes for the future. He spoke often, 
though the subject seemed little agreeable to Godber, 
of Maria's devout submission to the wiU of God, of the 
calmness with which she awaited her destiny, of the 
kindness of her heart which could retain the memory 
of no wrong. Without excusing Godber's conduct, he 


264 


THE HALLIG. 


endeavored to make it appear in as mild a light as pos- 
sible^ and pointed him to the merciful love of God 
which does not suffer us to be crushed by the burden 
of a guilty conscience. 

One day, when he was talking in this way, Godber, 
who had till now listened in silence, rose from his chair, 
and standing before him, gazed at him fixedly, and 
said in a tone at once solemn and fearful. 

Will the God you speak of, uncreate that night in 
which I forsook the helm of my vessel, to save her for 
whose sake I twice broke faith ? Will he who has 
healed Maria's wounded heart, rebuild that fair model 
which became a miserable wreck through me ? Had 
you set fire to your church in blind passion, would you 
forget it so easily as you think I ought to forget my 
wrong to the ship ? Will God call back to life the 
three who lie in the church-yard yonder, that I may 
again hear from them, ^ Godber is a brave pilot,' with- 
out hearing at the same time, a hellish laughter in my 
ears 

Hold trembled, as much from the wild expression of 
Godber's countenance and words, as from the discovery 
of an unsuspected weight on the young man's con- 
science. But Godber continued : 

You tremble at such crimes, and yet you only hear 
of them ; and I who have committed them, should nofc 
I bo crushed under their load ? There is no help for 
me !" 

In a more subdued tone, whose slight tremulousness 
indicated a transition from stern despair to sorrowful 
emotion, he added, after a short pause : 

Even if you bring Maria to my arms a happy bride, 


REPENTANCE. 


265 


you can not say these eyes have never wept through 
fault of yours, this heart has never bled through you, 
the fidelity of the sons of the hallig has received no 
stain from you. Maria has only my wrong to forget. 
Such forgetting is easy. But to forget it myself, death 
must help me do that. And death itself can not help 
me,"" cried he, in a voice of terror, for after that comes 
the judgment."" 

So saying, he covered his face with his hands, and 
sank back into his chair, in a silent stupor. 

After considering some time, the pastor went to God- 
her and said — 

I will not talk to you of the vessel, will not call 
your attention to the fact that perhaps no skill of yours 
could have availed to save it ; how much more probable 
it is that you would have all perished in that case, while 
now five persons owe their lives to you. But I will speak 
of the Gospel which proclaims pardon. We are alto- 
gether sinners, and have nothing wherein to glory be- 
fore God. If we conscientiously examine our own works, 
we must confess that we can not stand before a just and 
holy God, we must confess that in the light and judg- 
ment of the Divine law our virtue must melt away like 
a shadow, and that, on the other hand, our sins rise 
over our heads. Before the words Be ye holy for I am 
holy !"" before the declaration that For eveiy idle word 
which proceedeth out of your mouth ye shall give an 
account,"" no excuse stands, no pretext, no justification. 
Our weakness is but falsehood, for it is the fruit of a 
lying spirit, who darkens and disfigures the Divine com- 
mand, but who could never have that power if we did 
not ourselves grant it to him, suffering evil desires to 
12 


266 


THE HALLIG. 


grow Hp within us. What we call temptations and se- 
ductions are merely responses from without to the en- 
ticing voice of sin from within. Whoever does not take 
the word holy in its full signification, as a complete pur- 
ification of ourselves and our lives from all evil thoughts 
and worldly desires, as a perfect transformation from a 
child of Adam to a child of God in every thought, word 
and deed — he knows nothing of the Creator and his 
will, or of our vocation upon earth, and still supposes 
that one may worship both God and mammon ; for all 
imperfection and lukewarmness are abhorrent to our 
Maker, since whosoever keepeth the whole law and yet 
offendeth in one point, is guilty of all. From this se- 
verity we have no power to abate any thing, and God 
himself can not, for he is holy."" 

Godber wrung his hands, and sobbed aloud, There 
is no help for me !"" 

But the pastor continued, If we lay this to heart, 
we can not stand before God with joy, nor with joy ful- 
fill his commands. For between him and us our sins 
have raised a thick wall of partition, which excludes us 
from all hope and consolation, and our attempt to 
change our characters and lives, must fail because sin 
which has once become powerful in us, can only be over- 
come by a severe conflict. To the success of this con- 
flict, joy in God and love to him are necessary ; and we 
have them not, so long as our heavy-laden conscience 
only testifies of the J udge of quick and dead."" 

^^He has pronounced sentence already,"" exclaimed 
Godber. 

We must be able to cast off the old robe of our own 
righteousness, and put on a wedding-garment. We 


KEPENTANCE. 


267 


must be able to lay aside our burden, and with a light 
heart begin a new life. We must be able to renounce 
our sorrowfulness, and look heavenward with joy. But 
such ability lies not in our own strength. If we attempt 
it of ourselves, our feeble efforts are soon paralyzed by 
the consciousness of unforgiven sin. Neither can we 
forgive ourselves for the least impure thought, for we 
stand not at our own bar, but are under the law and 
judgment of God.'^ 

I know it, I know it,"" groaned Godber. 

But the j)astor went on in an elevated tone : We 
need the forgiveness of God ; not merely a presumed, 
supposed, hoped-for pardon, but a certainty against 
which the gates of hell can not prevail. And now, 
Godber, the time is fulfilled, the night is passed, and 
the day has dawned ! The great mystery of redemption 
has been proclaimed upon earth ; God was in Christ, 
reconciling the world unto himself. Arise, thou weary, 
sinful soul, arise ! For there is joy in heaven over one 
sinner that repenteth. These words did not proceed 
merely from man"s longing desire for consolation ; in 
that case they would be unavailing, would have no 
power against the eternally renewed assaults of an ac- 
cusing conscience. It is the word of him who came 
forth from the Father that he might bear witness of 
him, and it stands surer than the firmament of heaven. 
The Saviour speaks, he whose word is not his own, but 
the word of him who sent him. He speaks, and through 
him the Judge of quick and dead, ^ Be of good cheer, 
thy sins be forgiven thee." So, Godber, open your heart 
and receive within the love that is seeking with these 
words to enter where judgment against sin has already 


268 


THE HALLia. 


been felt. Cast aside your heavy burden and enter joy- 
fully upon a new path, as if you were born again and 
had no past. Think of that only, as a means of pre- 
serving that humility which esteems as nothing its own 
merits, and its own righteousness, only to cherish a lively 
zeal for the crown of perfection in all holiness of heart 
and life, only to shun sin, which, as you have expe- 
rienced, renders us so miserable, only to praise with joy, 
peace, and blessedness to your life's end, the grace of 
your heavenly Father who hath done so great things 
for you. Eemember the past, not to make it a curse to 
yourself, but a blessing, as God will remember it only 
to lead you forth from it into the kingdom of his bless- 
ings and promises." 

Godber was much moved by the minister’s words, 
and if they could not restore to him the peace which 
had fled from him, they served, at least, to turn his 
eyes once more with a hasty, timid, but prayerful look, 
toward heaven, and through the tempest of his troubled 
conscience to send a gentle breath, as if from a land of 
peace. They called forth hot tears, and at the same 
time made an outlet for the consuming fires of remorse 
which thereby lost their maddening power over him. 
He seized the pastor’s hand, and bowing his head, laid 
his burning forehead upon it, acknowledging his kind- 
ness in wishing to bring him out of his darkness. 

But the sufferer who is grateful to those who desire 
to relieve him, is already on the right road to receive 
consolation. 

Under the guidance of Hold, Godber became more 
calm every day. By excusing his conduct as far as pos- 
sible at first, and then condemning it where it deserved 


REPENTANCE. 


269 


censure, lie liad gradually succeeded in obtaining the 
entire confidence of him who judged himself so severe- 
ly, and in this way he brought him at length to the feet 
of the Saviour. For the way to Golgotha leads over 
Sinai, and whoever seeks to find an easier path thither, 
will only half reach his destination, and, therefore,-only 
find an imperfect peace which will not stand the test of 
lonely, solemn hours of self-examination. 

,At the same time, the pastor often turned the con- 
versation upon worldly matters, called Godber's atten- 
tion to the miserable condition of his wharf, reminded 
him that he was neglecting his little fiock of sheep, ad- 
vised him, and asked for advice in trifling household 
affairs, and in this way, roused him to activity and to 
an interest in* the ordinary duties of life. He now 
thought his victory complete, and that the unhappy 
separation between Godber and Maria was near its close. 
But here he found an unexpected obstacle. Every 
allusion to a reunion was repulsed by both. 

Oh this eternal halfway ness exclaimed Hold. 

Our gracious Father in heaven has done every thing, 
that his children may enjoy this world and its good 
gifts ; has freed us, in his mercy, from the weight of a 
guilty conscience ; demands no more penance, no more 
sacrifice, but desires that in the experience and ac- 
knowledgement of his boundless love, we should now 
live cheerful and happy, accepting and enjoying with 
childlike confidence what he offers us out of his full- 
ness. He will have the hearts of his children to be 
open to his love, not merely to that love which speaks 
to them in loud organ-like tones, but also to that which 
breathes, as it were, in the soft notes of the flute. He 


270 


THE HALLIG. 


will have his children rejoice, not only in his heaven, 
hut on his earth ; he will have them not only thank him 
as the great Father above, who pours out his consola- 
tion upon the wearj^ and heavy laden, but also as a 
Father here below, who is present with the happy as 
well, and loves the hearts which are grateful to him for 
having made their pilgrimage so bright with sunshine, 
so rich with blossoms. And we will make a merit 
for ourselves, by doing penance continually, and take 
pleasure in denying ourselves the enjoyment of his tem- 
poral blessings, as if we hoped in so doing to establish 
a claim upon his promises for eternity ! That is a false 
modesty which refuses to receive any thing at his hand, 
a modesty which seeks to add something to the divine 
work of redemption, as if cheerful faith, childlike love, 
and the sanctification which results from such faith and 
such love, as the fruit follows the blossom, were not 
sufficient ; but as if by rejecting all pleasure in the 
works and gifts of God here below, a sacrifice, worthy 
of consideration, was offered/" 

0 no,"' cried Godber, it is not so ! and if I had 
ever thought so before, you have long since cured me 
of this sickly humility which is the child of pride. 
But, Maria could never be happy by my side. In every 
cloud which shaded my brow she would see Idalia, in 
every thought which I did not utter she would read 
that name. Waked by painful visions from her own 
slumbers, she would listen to my dreaming words, and 
I should live with her in constant fear of giving her 
occasion, even though innocently, of doubting my love. 
It would be quite a different thing if we had not known 
each other before, but broken faith always leaves a 


REPENTANCE. 


271 


thorn behind which the most watchful love but forces 
in the deeper, since it must seem like calculation, to the 
heart once so cruelly deceived.^' 

Hold could not make much objection, and perhaps, 
too, Godber was in the right. At any rate the pastor 
saw that Maria’s feelings were much the same, for she 
answered every allusion to the renewal of their former 
connection, with a negative which could not have pro- 
ceeded from any doubt that Godber would again seek 
her hand. Besides, they both seemed to enjoy such a 
childlike cheerful contentment, that whoever had seen 
them, without being acquainted with the bitter expe- 
riences of their lives, would have regarded it as the 
ingenuous hopefulness of youth, when in fact, it was 
the fruit of entire submission to the will of God, and 
the reflection of a heart filled with his peace. 

Let us leave the solution of this difficulty to time,” 
said the pastor to his wife. 

To time ? yes, if time were only ours.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE FLOOD. 

And such a night I through life’s long years, 

Fixed as a rock, it hides for aye; 

Its image on the heart impressed, 

No flood of tears can wash away. 

So came the third of February, 1825. The portion 
of the story which follows, consists almost entirely of 
simple historical facts ; and if much should seem to the 
reader like too bold a picture of the imagination, we 
can assure him of its entire truthfulness. It is precisely 
in those points where the events seem to pass into the 
region of the marvelous, that the greatest care has been 
taken to give the facts without any coloring ; and for this 
reason, the materials for the following description were 
taken entirely from an account of that terrible night of 
distress in the author’s own congregation. 

Heavy storms from the northward had driven the 
waves over the island, so that even during the ebb, the 
hallig remained covered with water. But accustomed 
to such storms, and comparing its strength and direc-. 
tion with previous ones, the inhabitants supposed they 
had nothing to fear on this occasion ; and while the 
waves dashed against the wharves, and the cabins 


THE FLOOD. 


2T3 


trembled from the shocks of the blast, most of them 
went early and quietly to their beds. Hold sat up 
somewhat later, occupied with some literary labor. His 
wife was quietly sleeping in an adjoining chamber by 
the side of her first-born. 

To Hold's surprise, Maria stepped softly into his room. 

The water is rising very high/" said she, with a 
trembling voice. 

What cried Hold, and then checked the exclam- 
ation for fear that he might wake his wife. 

^Ht is not full flood till two o'clock; and now it is 
scarcely ten, and the wharf is even now nearly covered," 
continued Maria. The waves are already beating 
against Godber's house ; and one side of the wharf is 
settling away. From my window, I saw him standing in 
his door. He looked so fixedly over toward me." 

Hold sprang up hastily, and hurried with Maria to 
the open door. 

A brilliant moon was pouring a dazzling light over 
the ocean, whose broad, full waves, foaming and dashing, 
alternating in dark valleys and shining ridges, broke 
around the scattered dwellings, and over each other, as 
if one sea would drown another. 

God be merciful to our poor souls this night !" cried 
Hold, and looked anxiously back, as he thought of his 
wife. She already stood behind him ; and with that 
calmness which, in hours of the greatest danger, is 
found almost more frequently in woman than in man, 
she said, as she threw her arms about his neck : 

At least, we shall die together, you and I, and our 
child. I shall not be left behind, as once before, when 
these waves threatened you." 

12 * 


274 


THE HALLIG. 


At the same iustant, a portion of Godber's house fell ; 
and it was plain enough to foresee that the wretched 
condition of the wharf, which had now become so evi- 
dent, w’ould soon cause the complete destruction of the 
house and the speedy death of its inmate. But Godber, 
although many a wave rolled near his feet, and drenched 
him with its spray, appeared quite insensible to the 
danger. There he stood in the bright moonlight, his 
very features almost distinguishable, in the same spot 
where Maria had first observed him. His look, how- 
ever, was no longer turned to ward, the house of • the 
pastor, but directed to the side, where lay the church- 
yard, the top of the wall which surrounded it being 
now only occasionally visible. That one side of his 
house had given way, did not seem to move him. 
Maria cried out to him from her agonized heart. He 
did not hear her. There ! did she slide accidentally 
from the side of the wharf, now made slippery by the 
lashing of the waves ? or was it an intentional effort to 
reach Godber ? Maria sank into the sea, and rose the 
next moment on the foaming crest of a billow, twenty 
paces from the mound, and then drifted away on the 
dark ridge of a succeeding wave. 

The shriek of terror from Hold and his wife, roused 
Godber from his stupor. His eye flew rapidly over the 
water, in the direction from w^hich the piercing cry had 
come ; and at the same instant, a huge wave lifted 
Maria again aloft ; and through its cloud of foam were 
seen the raised head and extended arms of the poor 
girl. Godber plunged into the stormy sea, measuring 
with great presence of mind the progressive motion of 
the water, which, fortunately, was almost exactly in the 


THE FLOOD. 


275 


direction of his house. A long boat-hook which he had 
been holding to support himself against the violence of 
the tempestj served as a sort of anchor in his battle 
with the mighty billows^ to which his strength would 
have been otherwise unequal ; and in this way, he 
struggled on in the direction of the object he had seen. 
Just as he rose to take breath from the deep vortex of 
a wave which had broken over him — see ! on the white 
edge of the nearest wall of water, a dark figure which 
is swept onward directly toward him ; and in a moment 
more, Godber stood again on his w^harf, and Maria hung 
as if lifeless in his arms. 

So far, the anxious eyes of the pastor and his wife 
had observed all their motions ; but now, a huge wave 
which rolled over the floor of the house, warned them 
to make the preparations necessary for their own safety. 
Hold fastened the shutters as closely as possible, and 
bolted the doors. The best sheep should have been 
taken up to the garret ; but the two alone were not 
strong enough to do this ; and therefore, they were 
obliged to content themselves with carrying up what- 
ever else they had most valuable. But not to ex- 
pose their child unnecessarily to the cold of the upper 
room, and in the hope that by further strengthening, 
the door might be made to resist the waves, they deter- 
mined to remain below as long as possible. It is true 
that light articles began to float about them, as the sur- 
rounding water could not be entirely excluded from the 
house ; but as y^t there w’as no opening large enough to 
make them fear immediate danger from the power of the 
element within. The mother, to be ready for any event, 
had taken into her arms her child, who, after a drowsy. 


276 


THE HALLIG. 


but loving look at its parents, slept on quietly as before. 
They spoke little, but sat by each other on the heavy 
oak table, which, being an heir-loom of the parsonage, 
had often before felt the sea around it ; and at every 
surge which shook the foundations of the house, they 
pressed closer to each other. In the course of the next 
half hour, every box and chest in the house was afloat ; 
and the water had risen to the top of the table. Now 
they were forced to leave their position, and wade to 
the garret stairs. But before they had reached them, 
the waves struck with a noise like thunder against the 
door on the west side of the house, which gave way, 
and with it a portion of the wall of the dwelling, forc- 
ing in a large beam which broke down the stairs with a 
fearful crash. In bewildered terror, the unhappy pair 
stood for some moments motionless and breathless ; 
they embraced each other closely, and hid their deadly 
pale faces, each on the breast of the other. Just then, 
they heard loud lamentations near them ; and from the 
fragment of the roof which the beam brought with it, 
and which fell to pieces in an instant, a neighbor, whose 
wharf stood only a short distance from the parsonage, 
was, with his wife, thrown in beside them. 

My child, my child,'" screamed the poor woman, in 
the most heart-rending tone when she recovered from 
her first bewilderment. The child had been fastened 
to a bundle of hay, as the father had foreseen the de- 
struction of the house, and the unhappy parents did 
not know whether it had been crushed by the falling of 
the wall, or was floating about in the water. 

My child, my child," cried the mother again and 
again, and the father joined in the lament. Both for- 


THE FLOOD. 


277 


got that they were saved for the moment, both forgot 
that the next instant the wild waves might sweep them 
off again, a sacrifice to the raging sea. The situation 
of the pastor's family, as well as that of their neighbors, 
was now perilous in the extreme. The waves were roll- 
ing around them with terrible violence, breaking down, 
one by one, all the partitions in the interior of the 
house, madly tossing about the heaviest weights as if 
they had been but feathers, and the unfortunate in- 
mates, in danger every moment of being crushed by the 
large objects thus driven about, stood half dead with 
fear before the open passage to the garret, which seemed 
only to mock them with the hope of life, since there 
was no longer any means of reaching the fioor above. 
But it was some relief to them, when a portion of the 
wall opposite the place which had first given way, was 
carried off, while the part directly behind them, still 
remained firm. The boxes, beams, and fragments of 
the wall, which had been so dangerous, were washed 
out through this opening, and they soon had only to 
sustain themselves against the continually rising flood, 
for the bare posts alone remained, except just where 
they were standing. Had the wall here given way, they 
must all have been swept out into the sea. But the 
flood rose higher and higher, and the certainty of death 
increased, for even with the aid of the wall, the great- 
est exertion was necessary to enable the unfortunate 
sufterers to keep themselves on their feet, and it was 
utterly impossible for them to reach the garret. Al- 
ready several waves had broken over their heads, and 
Hold's wife was obliged to lift the weeping child that 
she had not been willing to confide even to her hus- 


278 


THE HALLIG. 


band, still higlier, to prevent its drowning in her arms. 
But help he^d been provided for them long before any 
mortal could have dreamed of this danger. The wine 
cask which Mander had forced the pastor to accept, 
having been probably undermined by the water, was 
rolled over by a heavy wave and left standing directly 
under the opening into the garret, at which they had 
been gazing with such longing despair. Inspired with 
new hope, they succeeded by the aid of this cask, in 
climbing into the loft. But what a place of refuge ! 
A floor, already shattered by the tempest, supported by 
posts which were trembling at every shock of the waves ; 
around and beneath them the angry ocean whose bil- 
lows often threw their foaming spray over the very roof 
and poured abundant streams through its openings ! In 
this situation, quiet compared with that from which 
they had just escaped, the child soon fell into a gentle 
slumber which was not broken by the hot tears that the 
mother dropped upon her precious burden. But the 
neighbor’s wife, starting from a torpid silence, began 
once more to moan aloud for her son. And now the 
church, which, we have already said, w^as under the 
same roof, was swept away. This would have been 
quite unnoticed — for the howling of the wind, the roar 
of the waves, and the creaking of the timbers in every 
joint, united in such a deafening confusion, that not 
even the thunder of heaven could have been heard — 
had not the falling church carried away with it the 
studs which had, till now, supported the roof on two 
sides, leaving of the garret floor only a couple of nar- 
row boards, with a few rafters above it, over which the 
thatching hung in rags, thus completely exposing the 


THE FLOOD. 


279 


north and east side. What a prospect ! A broad 
boundless expanse of waves that^ sometimes^ heaping 
themselves up like an arch^ threatened to crush their 
place of refuge at a single stroke^ then sinking down, 
surged up from beneath, as if about to toss it high in 
the air and scatter asunder its few remaining fragments. 
Beams, boards, chests, beds, and cradles, with the bod- 
ies of sheep, were all hurrying by together, and rolling 
onward, as if each were anxious to find, as soon as pos- 
sible, a resting-rplace behind the dikes on the main 
land which lay in the direction of the storm. Among 
these ruins which announced the fate of the islands 
lying further to the north-west, floated here and there a 
form which spoke fearfully to the despairing group of 
their own approaching fate. The full moon shed a 
painfully clear light on this terrible picture, as if night 
had cruelly borrowed the brilliancy of day, that man 
might not be spared this sight of horror. Norie of the 
houses on the hallig could have been seen in the direc- 
tion which was open, except that of Godber, and this 
had totally disappeared. But see ! do not two figures, 
closely embracing each other, stand there on the surf — 
for no solid object was visible on which the foot could 
rest. It was Godber with Maria. With more than 
human strength, he seemed struggling against the 
winds and waves. Now he braced himself against the 
force of a sudden gust which rolled a heavier billow 
completely over them, then raised himself and lifted 
the young girl in his arms, to recover breath for new 
exertions. But in vain ! The support beneath his 
feet, whether a wall, or a timber, held no longer. A 
huge wave rolled forward like some greedy monster, and 


280 


THE HALLIG. 


for a moment Maria and Godber, a united pair, were 
borne upon the highest crest of the far stretching bil- 
low^ as if they vrould so ascend to heaven together — 
then sank into the deep waters below from which they 
were to rise no more. While watching this unfortu- 
nate couple, the witnesses of their fate had for a few 
moments forgotten their own peril, but now their 
thoughts reverted to themselves with feelings natural 
to those who have seen others suffer the death to which 
they are condemned, and know that their own doom 
follows next. Fear of death was no longer the ruling 
idea, although at every renewed trembling of their poor 
retreat, the dreadful anticipation of their last moment 
thrilled through soul and body. But in the brief inter- 
vals between the shocks, the certain expectation of 
destruction became almost a hope, even a longing, for 
speedy release from these horrors, by immediate death. 
The fate of Godber and Maria had again fixed the 
thoughts of the neighbors upon their child, who, they 
could not doubt, was now, like them, the lifeless play- 
thing of the waves, and their grief broke out anew in 
lamentations. Just then some dark object fioated to- 
ward the opening. It was a stack of hay which had 
been held together by the loaded straw-plaiting that 
covered it, but now, striking against a fioating beam, it 
was overturned and fell in pieces. The upper portion 
of it was thrown under the roof, covering those who 
were lying on the boards, with wet hay. And lo ! the 
child who had long since been given up for lost lies at 
its mother’s feet, living and uninjured. 0 ! who can 
conceive the joy of the parents. They covered the boy 
with a thousand kisses, with a grateful thanksgiving 


THE FLOOD. 


281 


they praised the goodness and mercy of God. Every 
thought that death was so near to all^ entirely vanished. 
And the sympathy of the pastor and his wife made 
even them forget the common danger ; and had the 
poor frame-work yielded to the tempest at this moment, 
they would have been swallowed up by the flood in the 
midst of rejoicings for the recovery of the child. When 
their thoughts were turned once more to the dangers 
which surrounded them, they were found to have al- 
ready diminished. The storm no longer raged so vio- 
lently, and grew calmer every moment. The waves no 
longer threw such vast sheets of water over the ruined 
roof, and were soon only rolling beneath it. But the 
joy with which the new hope of life inspired them, was 
greatly lessened by the fact that the supports of the 
few joists and boards that remained, seemed now scarce- 
ly equal to sustain the slightest shock, but trembled 
even more violently than before, and seemed loosening 
at every joint. As the water retired, large portions of 
the mound on which these posts had rested, fell off, 
making one side of the little portion of the garret that 
remained, lean so much that it was only -by clinging to 
the rafters, that the unhappy company could prevent 
sliding from the wet and slanting boards. But the sea 
sent up a few more long, heavy surges toward the prey 
which it left behind so unwillingly, and in its retreat, 
undermined, so completely, the ground on which the 
house-posts stood, that they were left almost entirely 
without support, and the danger to which the pastor 
and his companions were exposed, was now greater than 
before. The higher their hopes of life had risen, the 
more agonizing was the thought of falling a sacriflce at 


282 


THE HALLIG. 


last, to the now constantly abating flood. How slowly 
the minutes passed by ! How slowly the sea retired ! 
But time measured itself by their beating hearts, and 
after six hours, every minute of which had been to 
them a stern and threatening messenger of death, the 
two preserved families stood once more upon their 
mother earth. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


SIGHTS. 

God looks from heaven 1 and lo 1 the waves are stilled ; 

Help comes from him whose breath the winds did waken ; 

Now, in the longed-for dawn we may behold 
How God protecteth and what God hath taken. 

From “ The Flood,” 1825. 

With what emotions did they, who had just escaped 
death, look upon the scene of their former domestic life, 
happy, though attended with so many privations ! Who 
shall judge them severely if their first upward glance 
was not one of gratitude ? Life could scarcely appear a 
welcome gift, since they were now deprived of every 
thing necessary to its support and enjoyment. The very 
earth on which the walls of their dwelling had rested 
was swept away — a dwelling which had contained all 
the necessaries of life, and in which the devoted hus- 
band and wife had found so much happiness. The 
church was gone, and its loss was a most severe wound 
to the heart of the pastor ; of his second sanctuary, 
too, the quiet abode of his domestic happiness, there 
remained but a few fragments, scarcely enough to mark 
the place where it had stood. The unhappy couple 
gazed at the desolation with tearful eyes. The husband 
recollected his books ; not one of them had escaped ; 


284 


THE HALLia. 


the wife thought of all the little articles indispensable j 
to her housekeeping, hut there was no trace of any thing j 
with which she could hope to begin anew. One rouleau j 
of gold would have entirely outweighed all they had 
both lost ; but the joy in what they had earned by care 
and toil, the love of what was endeared to their hearts 
by pleasant associations, the link with which habit 
binds us to an article otherwise of little consequence, 
the old familiar look of an object which, like a tried 
friend, is connected with the joys and sorrows of our j 
every-day life — all these no money could restore. And i 
even if this had been possible, where was it to be ob- j 
tained ? Were they not standing there, poor and naked ! 
indeed, with no prospect for the future, without know- 
ing how to provide for the wants of the day ! Was it 
not probable that they who had escaped the flood, would 
now perish from cold and hunger ? Could they already 
look trustfully over to the mainland coast from which 
help was to be expected, before they knew how extensive 
the inundation had been, how far it had swept away 
dykes and embankments, and how far the charity and 
means of their neighbors might reach, or how soon their 
attention might be called to their situation ? As no 
one in our own country could have foreseen that such 
active benevolence would be exerted in behalf of the 
halligs, and that such abundant relief would have flowed 
in upon them as the event proved, how much less in 
the first moment, in the full consciousness of their ter- 
rible situation, could the unhappy inhabitants have ex- 
pected it ! 

Hold and his wife stood disconsolate on the site of 
their former happiness, and their child cried with the 


SIGHTS. 


285 


cold. They looked about them and saw on all sides 
only the same desolation. Wharves bare, or sustaining 
only a few posts with the shattered fragments of a roof. 
But a single dwelling was less injured, and might still 
offer imperfect shelter and protection. Toward this 
they directed their trembling steps. As the pastor de- 
scended the crumbling mound, he observed a book pro- 
jecting from under one of the iron plates of the overturned 
stove. He stood still, and a deep flush of shame passed 
over his pale face. His tears fell faster, but through 
them he raised a beaming look to the heavens now cov- 
ered with clouds. He seized the hand of his wife, 
pressed it warmly, and said : 

See there ! the Lord speaks to us again ! No, no,"" 
and he clasped his wife and child in his arms, we will 
never despair. He has resolved that we should hear 
him. How clearly he has spoken again ! He himself 
inspired me to write last evening what was this morn- 
ing to strengthen my weak faith."" 

And now, on the way to their place of shelter, he 
told her what he had written on the preceding night in 
his manuscript, entitled Sights,"" for this was the book 
that he had found. 

And the heavens were opened again, as at the time 
when Jacob the son of Isaac slept in the fleld. From 
the light clouds which vailed the entrance to the abode 
of the angels who behold the face of God, the heavenly 
ladder descended into the silent night of this cold earth. 
The sides of the ladder seemed broad sunbeams half 
vailed by morning mists, and the steps were moonlight 
and starlight combined. A messenger from God came 
down, appearing first like a white vapory cloud that 


286 


THE HALLIG. 


rocks itself in the blue sea of heaven on a summer day, 
then floating nearer to the earth, his form appeared as 
might that of the pious soul to the heavenly hosts, when 
hastening home to its Father in its transflgured body 
invisible to mortal eyes. But mine eyes were to be 
opened to behold the angel even in this form, for a flery 
coal had been prepared for me in the counsels of the 
Father, because my weakness had despaired before the 
cares of this life. And the angel touched the earth, 
beckoned to me, and moved lightly toward me, light 
as gossamer floats on the breeze. We wandered over 
mountain, valley, and sea, through the still winter night, 
and my foot slipped not on the smooth surface of the 
ice, became not weary in the damp snows, as if its sole 
touched not the earth beneath it. We met also several 
night pilgrims, but they did not see us ; to the eye of 
man my form was invisible. It seemed to me as if I had 
left the dark heavy shadow vf clay behind in its place 
of slumber, and as if my soul were traveling, clad in 
the drapery of her future home. At last we came to a 
great city whose gates opened and shut in silence, as the 
cloud-walls divide, to permit a sunbeam to pass, that 
with a sudden flash upon the meadows it may wake 
some sleeping bud. AU was still and desolate in the 
streets, and we passed through the long lines of houses 
like persons, who, having prolonged their pleasures till 
too late an hour, find the door of their own dwellings 
shut, and are forced to seek hospitality with some dis- 
tant friend. So the angel of God walked with me 
through the wide city, and those who slept in lofty pal- 
aces dreamed of the riches, the honors, and the pleasures 
of the world as before, and they who slept in the huts 


SIGHTS. 


287 


of poverty were, even in their slumbers, as anxious how 
to provide for the wants of the body, as eager for gain, 
and as envious as they had been by day ; but the angel 
passed by and none saw him. Only over the face of the 
young child that, unconscious of the world, slept in its 
cradle, and knew not yet whether it was born rich or 
poor, a faint smile passed, more lovely and beautiful 
than that of the bride who sees her betrothed in her 
dreams. At the extreme end of the city, stood a lofty 
church whose slender spires, broken by the glimmering 
moonlight, reached to the clouds, and whose broad walls 
and colonnades seemed built to cover the narrow alleys 
which lay behind them, the home of the miserable and 
the despised. Lighted lamps were shining through the 
high arched windows, and as we stood under the gothic 
doorway, a pleasant chime rung out for matins. The 
sound from the tower, and the chant of the priest, 
thrilled me with devotion, and I was anxious to press 
in with the few worshipers who were hastening to 
prayer. But the angel beckoned me to stay, and turned 
his eye upward to the cornice of the stately temple. A 
sparrow, stiffened by the frost, fell from the roof at the 
feet of the angel. He hfted it up, and wrapping it in 
the folds of his vesture, warmed it compassionately on 
his bosom. And as if his mission in this place were 
ended, he walked on more rapidly, and, as I thought, 
with a more joyful countenance, directing his steps to 
the despised quarter of the town, and through the dark, 
narrow, and crooked lanes, until we reached the extreme 
outer wall. There stood a hut so ruinous that I feared 
even to pass by it. But God's messenger entered, and 
I followed him reluctantly. A moldering staircase led 


288 


THE HALLIG. 


HS up, then another, till we entered into a small boarded 
chamber under the roof. The only window of this mis- 
erable abode looked over the city wall upon the open 
field, and its broken sash freely admitted the wind and 
the full moonlight, so that I could as distinctly see 
every object as if it had been day. Perhaps, too, my 
sight may have been clearer than usual. On a straw 
bed in the corner lay a dying person. I knew it by the 
rattling in the chest. Alas ! he was the only, the last 
stay of his family, who were standing about his bed, a 
wife with six children and the seventh on her breast. 
The children wrung their hands and wept aloud ; but 
the mother stared fixedly, with a pale unchanging face, 
for she had no more tears. The nursling alone uncon- 
cerned, lay on her despairing bosom, draining the little 
nutriment it afforded. The dying man raised himself 
feebly, and gazed with hollow eyes at his family. In 
every feature was expressed a longing desire to find 
some consolation for them ; his thin fingers grasped 
convulsively at the straws lying about him, as if he 
hoped to find among them an ear of wheat to remind 
him of that God who giveth bread to the hungry ; but 
the straws were empty, his heart, too, was void, and his 
sighs became groans of despair. The children wept still 
louder, the mother's knees failed, and she sank down 
by the side of her husband. 

^ Where hast thou brought me ?’ said I, softly, to 
the angel. ^ Help here, if thou canst, or let us depart 
hence, that I may weep over the misery of mankind.' 

^^But the angel replied — and his words sounded like 
the breath of morning which precedes the rising day — 

^ The eyes pf our heavenly Father behold all his 


SIGHTS. 


289 


cliildren here in the dust. Help is in his counsels. He 
will neither leave nor forsake any that are here ; hut I 
am only sent hither that the soul of this dying man 
may dejmrt in peace.'’ 

At these words he lifted the folds of his vesture, 
and the sparrow, warmed into new life upon his breast, 
flew forth, and perched upon the window. On its sill 
lay a broken crust, the last store of the poor family ; 
and the hungry bird, lighting near it, pecked off crumb 
after crumb. Suddenly the face of the dying man 
seemed transfigured. His eye followed, with kindling 
light, every motion of the bird, which fluttered around 
the new found food, tasting it now on this side, now on 
that. And more and more plainly was joy mirrored on 
the features of the dying man, and more and more blessed 
was the expression of peace on his countenance. He 
raised himself again as if the strength of his youth had 
returned, a tear of gratitude glistened in his eye, now 
turned toward heaven, and trust, and confidence, and 
hope, were enthroned on his cheerful brow. Then, look- 
ing again at his family, he stretched out his hand to- 
ward his wife and children, pointed to the sparrow on 
the window, said in a clear, firm voice. 

Behold the fowls of the air; for they sow not, 
neither do they yeap nor gather into barns, yet your 
heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much 
better than they !" 

He spoke, and gazed at his wife, whose eyes had 
been dry so long, till gentle tears flowed from them ; 
and then his soul departed in peace.’' 

13 

> 


i 


CHAPTER XXV. 


CONCLUSION. 

Look heavenward, bowed and broken soul! forget not 
That tears .may nourish graces in thy heart ; 

The world’s gifts passing, warn thee that thou set not 
Thy love on them, but choose the better part. 

All earthly perisheth, time’s rightful prey, 

But love and faith shall bloom without decay. 

On the morning that followed this night of destruc- 
tion, the whole congregation, men, women, and children, 
were assembled in the only house still capable of shel- 
tering them. All the other dwellings were either en- 
tirely swept off, or reduced to mere frame-work. What 
a prospect was before the unhappy islanders. Houses, 
lands, and flocks, destroyed ! No shelter, no provision 
for the ensuing day, not even food and dry clothing for 
the moment. Sickness, hunger, cold, and nakedness, 
despair or death in the waves on the next returning 
tide — such was the fate too nearly threatened to be 
overlooked. As they hurried successively to the place 
of refuge, each new narrative furnished a fresh subject 
for admiration of the divine power and goodness. 

I may mention, among other cases, that of a poor 
woman at the point of becoming for the first time a 
mother. When the flood came on, she was carried to 


CONCLUSION. 


291 


the garret ; and the house being undermined, she was 
thrown with its ruins, on a hay stack. There half 
crushed by the timbers which swayed with every rising 
and falling wave, she clung all night, and then waded 
across the hallig, through deep water, to the only house 
left standing, where she immediately gave birth to a 
healthy child, who was christened John, or God is 
gracious. This was the last child born upon this hallig, 
excepting the eldest surviving daughter of the author. 

When at last, none were missing but Godber and 
Maria, the thoughts and feelings of all were turned to 
the losses they had suffered, and to the helplessness of 
their present situation. All lamented, wept, and sobbed 
together. But having overcome his first feeling of mis- 
ery, the pastor who, during his residence upon the hal- 
lig, had often pictured to himself a similar state of 
things, and whom the Lord, as we have already seen, 
had greatly comforted in his trial, soon began to recol- 
lect the duties which his office imposed upon him ; and 
never before had his vocation seemed so noble to him as 
at this hour. He addressed himself, sometimes to indi- 
viduals, sometimes to all ; called their attention to the 
truly wonderful preservations told by one and another, 
and endeavored to waken their confidence in their 
Father in heaven, who sustains the birds of the air, and 
clothes the fiowers of the field ; pointed out to them the 
fact that so many precious promises had been given ex- 
pressly for such situations as that in which they now 
found themselves, and encouraged them — as his first 
proposition to endeavor to reach the mainland by the 
help of the only vessel which lay at anchor uninjured, 
was rejected — to wait with him in entire submission, on 


292 


THE HALLIG. 


the soil of their beloved home, and see what God would 
do for them. His words were to the poor sufferers 
like manna in the desert ; and he was reminded of the 
flickering wick which does not go out, and the bent 
reed that does not break. He rebuked the despairing 
with earnest words : Humble yourselves therefore un- 
der the mighty hand of God."' Who has been brought 
to shame that has hoped in God ! Who has ever been 
forsaken that has remained steadfast in the fear of the 
Lord ! Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and 
shall we not receive evil ? Therefore be patient in 
your tribulation." ^^And above all/" cried he, ^Gf I 
have but thee, Almighty Father, I will ask neither for 
heaven nor earth. If soul and body languish, still thou, 
0 God, art at all times the confidence of my heart and 
my salvation."" By degrees his consolation found en- 
trance into the hearts of his afflicted congregation. 
They gathered more and more closely about him, grad- 
ually assenting to the truth of his remarks ; their com- 
plaints ceased, their tears flowed more gently, and their 
sighs were turned to silent prayers. 

Hunger and cold now warned them to pre 2 )are some 
refreshment. Even if it were possible to kindle a fire, 
they had no provisions except such as were thoroughly 
wet by the sea, and most of all, they lacked fresh 
water, as the inundation had filled every well. Hold 
noAv remembered the cask of wine by means of which 
his life had been preserved, and some young men went 
to his wharf to fetch it. 

On their way they discovered the corpse of Godber, 
which had found its resting-place by the washed grave 
of his former captain and the two sailors, as if in sign 


CONCLUSION. 


293 


of perfect reconciliation. Could he have chosen his 
own burial-place, he would have selected no other. 

In hours of special excitement, man is easily inclined 
to give a remarkable coincidence a deeper significance 
than perhaps he ought. We shall, therefore, leave it 
to our readers to decide whether Hold was right, when 
afterward, in conversation with his wife upon the dis- 
covery of Godber's body on the grave of his former ship- 
mates, he expressed himself as follows : It seems to 
me as if God had designed by this circumstance to give 
me great consolation. I can now think of Godber with- 
out any doubts of his forgiveness. This union in death 
with those whom he regarded, justly or unjustly, as 
having been sacrificed by his unfaithfulness, strikes me 
as an aflSrmative answer to the question of survivors, 

^ Was his repentance accepted ?' We should think of 
him with peace, since we have seen him sleeping peace- 
fully by the side of those with whose death his conscience 
reproached him. I, at least, must thank God that he 
so ordered it, and would not willingly have seen the 
body of Godber lying elsewhere. He was to go first 
where the voice of reconciliation called him. Maria 
belonged not there, and, therefore, they were separated. 
The last moments of his life had expiated his offense 
toward her, and they are now reunited in the everlast- 
ing habitations.'' 

If our narrative has won your sympathy, kind reader, 
we beg you also to take leave of Godber without re- 
proaching him for his weakness. Who shall measure 
the strength of passion whose glowing fiame often con- 
sumes, in one unhappy moment, all that we call our 
truth and our duty, and we stand before their ashes, 


294 


THE HALLIG. 


and ask with astonishment, ^^How has all this hap- 
pened In judging ourselves, no severity is too 
great ; but when we would judge others, let the con- 
sciousness of our own weakness make us breathe the 
prayer, 0 God, lead us not into temptation 

The cask was fortunately found uninjured, was open- 
ed at once, and the necessary food was prepared in the 
wine. In this way refreshment was provided, which 
infused new warmth and life into their wet and chilled 
frames. 

Thus far the Lord has helped us V exclaimed Hold, 
when all were satisfied. Let us go out to the place 
where his sanctuary stood, that we may thank him 
there, where we have so often called upon his holy 
name. There, in view of the destruction of all our 
temporal goods, will we praise him that he has pre- 
served those dearest to us, and still showed his love to 
us, even when his hand was heavy U2)on us.""^ And he 
commenced singing Luther’s hymn, In deepest grief 
I cried to thee !” and the whole congregation joined in 
the following verses on their way to the site of the 
church : 

And should my grief last till the night, 

Or even till the morrow, 

My heart shall trust its Father’s might. 

Nor feel despairing sorrow. 

For thus the soul regenerate, 

"Whom grace divine did re-create, 

Will on its Grod with patience wait. 

Although so many are our sins. 

Yet more the grace he giveth ; 

However great may be our need. 

His arm is strong that saveth. 


CONCLUSION. 


295 


The only shepherd true is he! 

Israel’s Eedeemer will he be, 

And from his trouble set him free. 

As the pastor ascended the mound, which, in its 
washed condition, could scarcely be called a wharf, and 
upon which not a stone or timber remained to remind 
them that a building had stood here, the first object 
which met his sight was the body of Maria. She must 
have been fioated back by the retreating tide, and was 
left in one of the cavities of the mound, almost in a 
sitting posture, so that at the first glance she seemed 
like a living person who had sought shelter here from 
the rough winds. All pressed around Hold as he bent 
over the corpse with tearful eyes. He was so much 
moved and saddened, that he endeavored in vain to re- 
cover the cheerful, trusting confidence with which he 
had led the congregation hither. 

So, then, this youthful life which had known happi- 
ness only in a dream, had vanished. When the dream 
seemed about to be fulfilled, a sharp winter frost 
touched the buds of her bridal garland, and they with- 
ered away. And thou, too, with thy modest, simple 
nature, who seemed made to walk peacefully through 
the world unnoticed by destiny which smites proud 
hearts, and tries more excitable tempers, thou, too, 
must bleed, a patient sacrifice to a world agitated by 
passion. But a fair morning-star had risen in thy heart, 
and called forth flowers not born of earth, over which 
no winter frost has power, and which nourished by the 
dews of heavenly peace and the tears of earthly sorrow, 
unfolded themselves luxuriantly and sent a richer fra- 
grance toward heaven. Thy soul has not passed into 


296 


THE HALLIG. 


another land, it was already loosed from the fetters of 
earthly desires, was even here below, not a pilgrim trav- 
eling toward heaven, but one already walking there. 
The tears which fall upon thy clay, are not for thee 
whose faith has now become sight, they are for the 
world which has no resting-place, even for a heart that 
asked so little. We are, indeed, strangers and pilgrims 
upon earth. 

As the pastor stooped lower, less to observe the dead 
more closely, than to conceal his own tears, he saw be- 
side Maria the golden communion-cup which had 
served the congregation since 1459.''*' 

This discovery struck him like a message from 
heaven. His cheerful faith returned with overcoming 
power. He eagerly seized the treasure so dear to him- 
self and his people, and holding it high in his left 
hand, raised the right as if in benediction over the 
heads of the congregation who were surrounding him. 
His face, beaming with joy, was turned toward the 
heavens, through whose light clouds the sun was just 
breaking, illuminating with its rays the terrible desola- 
tion, and pouring at the same time a gleam over the 
countenance of the pastor on which the holy joy within 
was brightly and clearly reflected. There he stood on 
the highest portion of the ruined wharf, himself the 
center of a wonderful picture. Near him the body of 
Maria in a half sitting posture, like a faithful disciple 
at the feet of the master ; her countenance, too, turned 
heavenward with the mild peace of death on her beau- 
tiful features. The congregation were gathered i-ound 

* This chalice is preserved in the Museum of Art and Antiquities, in 
Copenhagen. 


CONCLUSION. 


297 


in every variety of ] 30 sture^ each indicating more or less 
exhaustion, all thinly clad from the hurry and confusion 
of the preceding night, men without neck-cloths and 
their chests exposed, women and girls with their long 
wet hair hanging over their shoulders ; some with coun- 
tenances as it w^ere transfigured, gazing upward ; others 
with an expression of sorrow and distress at the fresh 
sight of the annihilation of their earthly fortunes, chil- 
dren looking timidly around and clinging to their pa- 
rents, as if seeing again the horrors through which they 
had just passed. And then the shattered wharf, here 
washed into deep cavities, there into steep slides with 
heaps of earth below it, like the blown up walls of a 
fortress. On one side a half sunk house-frame, the last 
remains of the parsonage, on the other a view over the 
smooth flats covered with scattered ruins that a light 
fall of snow during the morning had made visible 
above the dark, wet earth on which they lay. Beyond, 
the sea, whose waves, from the impulse of the late 
storm, were still in unusual agitation, proving how 
great had been the violence of the tempest. All this 
formed a picture whose reality left every creation of 
fancy far behind it. 

Fear not, little flock,'" exclaimed the pastor. See ! 
the Lord is near you ! As the rainbow after the del- 
uge, was a sign and a testimony that God's grace should 
henceforth be greater than man's sin, so he gives us 
this cup which has served so many generations and has 
survived so many floods, as a sign and testimony to-day, 
that he will take pity upon us in his love and faithful- 
ness. F ear not little flock ! The Lord who hath sent 
Jesus Christ into the world that he might fill the 


298 


THE HALLIG. 


cup of reconciliation with his own blood, he says to 
you through this cup of the holy sacrament, ^ I will 
never leave thee, nor forsake thee !' Lord, we hold fast 
to thy word ! Lord, we build upon thy testimonies ! 
Who can dwell longer on what this night has taken 
from him ? Whose breast is not filled with consolation 
from on high ? Whose heart does not beat with child- 
like gratitude to our Father in heaven ? He has sent 
his messenger before — even this chalice ! He is here, 
and gives to every one of the fullness of his riches. He 
is here, 0 daughter of Sion, and has created a sanctu- 
ary in thy heart, whose foundation is the Eock of assur- 
ance, whose columns are light and grace, whose altar 
is the promise of this life and the life to come, whose 
battlements are peace and blessedness. Poor and help- 
less as we came into the world, we stand now before 
him. He allows us to be born again, that we may 
henceforth be more wholly his, nourished only by the 
pure milk of faith, strong only in his strength, rich 
only in his wealth, blessed only in his love. 0 Lord 
our God, here we are, we are thine, heirs of thy king- 
dom, no longer children of this world.^^ 

All earthly perisheth, time’s rightful prey, 

But love and faith shall bloom without decay. 

Amek. 


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DR. AVAYLAND’S UNIVERSITY SERMON 

Delivered in the Chapel of Brown University. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

THE RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD. 

And their Relations to Christianity. By Frederick Denison 3Iaurice, A. M., 
Professor of Divinity, King’s College, London. ICmo, cloth, 60 cts. 


15 ) 


VALUABLE WOEKS PUBLISHED BY GOULD &o LINCOLN, BOSTON. 


SACRED RHETORIC; 

Or, Composition and Delivery of Sermons. By Henry J. Kipley, Professor in 
Newton Theological Institution. Including Professor Ware’s Hints on Extem- 
poraneous Preaching. 12mo, 75 cts. 

THE PREACHER AND THE KING; 

Or, Bourdaloue in the Court of Louis XIV. An Account of that distinguished Era, 
Translated from the French of L. F. Bungeneu. With an Introduction by the 
Kev. George Potts, D. D. New edition, with a fine Likeness, and a Sketch of 
the Author’s Life. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

It combines substantial history with the highest charm of romance. Its attractions are so various 
that it can hardly fail to find readers of almost every description. — [Puritan Recorder. 


THE PRIEST AND THE HUGUENOT; 

Or, Persecution in the Age of Louis XV. Translated from the French of L. F. Bun- 
gener. 2 vols., 12mo, cloth, $2.25. 

This is truly a masterly production, full of interest, and may be set down as one of the greatest 
Protestant works of the age. 

FOOTSTEPS OF OUR FOREFATHERS. 

What they Suffered and what they Sought. Describing Localities and portraying 
Personages and Events conspicuous in the Struggles for Religious Liberty. By 
James G. Miall. Thirty-six fine Illustrations. 12mo, $1.00. 

An exceedingly entertaining work. The reader soon becomes so deeply entertained that he finds 
it difficult to lay aside the book till finished. — [Ch. Parlor Mag. 

A work absorbingly interesting, and very instructive. — [Western Lit. Magazine. 


MEMORIALS OF EARLY CHRISTIANITY. 

Presenting, in a graphic, compact, and popular form. Memorable Events of Early 
Ecclesiastical History, etc. By James G. Miall. With numerous elegant Illus- 
trations. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

This, like the “ Footsteps of our Forefathers,” will be found a work of uncommon interest. 


WORKS BY JOHN HARRIS, D. D. 


THE PRE-ADAMITE EARTH. Con- 
tributions to Theological Science. 12mo, 
cloth, $1.00. 

MAN PRIMEVAL ; or, the Constitution 
and Primitive Condition of the Human 
Being. With a fine Portrait of the Au- 
thor. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

PATRI ARC H Y ; or, THE FAMILY. Its 
C'onstitution and Probation; being tlie 
third volume of “ Contributions to The- 
logical Science.” $1.25. 


THE GREAT TEACHER ; or. Charac- 
teristics of our Lord’s Ministry. With 
an Introductory Essay. By H. Hum- 
phrey, D. D. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 

THE GREAT COMMISSION ; or, the 
Christian Church constituted and cliaj g- 
ed to convey the Gospel to the Woi (I. 
Introductory Essay by W. R. Wil- 
liams, D. D. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

ZEBULON ; Or, the Moral Claims of Sea- 
men. 18mo, cloth, 25 cts. 


PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 

Hi.*? Life and Labors. By John Stoughton, D. D., with beautiful Illuminated 
Title-page and Frontispiece. 16mo, cloth, 60 cents. 

THE EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANIT% 

As exhibited in the Avritings of its apologi.sts, doAvn to Augustine. By W. J. Bolton, 
of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. 12mo, cloth, 80 cents. 


( 6 ) 


VALUABLE WOEKS PUBLISHED BY GOULD &/ LIHCOLH, BOSTOIT 


WORKS BY DR. TWEEDIE. 


GLAD TIDINGS; or, The Gospel of A LAMP TO THE PATH ; or, the Bible 
Peace. A series of Daily Meditations . 

for Christian Disciples. By Ke\'. AV. K. 

Tw'eedie, 1 ). D. With elegant Illus- 


trated Title-page. Ibmo, cloth, G3 cts. 


ill the Heart, the Home, and the Market 
Place. AVTth an elegant Illustrated 
Title-page. 16mo, cloth, 63 cts. 


THE MORN OF LIFE ; or. Examples 
of Female Excellence. A Book for 
Young Ladies. 16mo, cloth. In iness. 


SEED TIME AND HARVEST; or. Sow 
AVell and Reap Well. A Book for the 
Young. With an elegant Illustrated 
Title-x>age. 16mo, cloth, 63 cts. 


03 “ The above works, by Dr. Tweedie, are of uniform size and style. They are most charm- 
ing, pious, and instructive works, beautifully gotten up, and well adapted for “gift-books.” ‘ 


WORKS BY JOHNT AKGELL JAMES. 


THE CHURCH MEMBER’S GUIDE; 
Edited by J. O. Choules, D 1). New 
edition. With an Introductory Essay by 
Rev. Hubbard Winslow. Cloth, 33c. 


CHRISTIAN PROGRESS. A Sequel to 
the Anxious Inquirer. 18mo, cloth, 31c. 

03 “ one of the best and most useful works of 
this popular author. 


THE CHURCH IN EARNEST. Seventh thousand. 18mo, cloth, 40 cents 


MOTHERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. 

By Jabez Burns, D. D. 16mo, cloth, 75 cents. 

AVe wish it Avere in every family, and read by every mother in the land. — [Lutheran Obsen'cr. 

MY MOTHER; 

Or, Recollections of Maternal Influence. By a New England Clergyman. AA^ith 
a beautiful Frontispiece. 12mo, cloth, 75 cents. 

This is one of the most charming books that have issued from the press for a long period. “ It is,” 
, says a distinguished author, “ one of those rare pictures painted from life with the exquisite skill of 
one of the ‘ Old Masters,’ Avhich so seldom present themselves to the amateur.” 

THE EXCELLENT WOMAN. 

With an Introduction by Rev. AV. B. Sprague, D.D. Containing twenty-four splen- 
did Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, §pl.00 ; cloth, gilt, ^1.75 ; extra Turkey, ^2.50. 

i This elegant volume is an appropriate and valuable “ gift book” for the husband to present the 

j wife, or the child the mother. 

MEMORIES OF A GRANDMOTHER. 

By a Lady of Massachusetts. 16mo, cloth, 50 cents, 

THE MARRIAGE RING; 

Or, Howto make Home Happy. By John Angell James. Beautiful illustrated 
edition 16mo, cloth, gilt, 75 cents. 

A beautiful volume, and a A'cry suitable present to a newly-married couple. — [N. Y. Christian In- 
telligencer. 


WORKS BY WILLIAM R. WILLIAMS, D.D. 


RELIGIOUS PROGRESS ; Discourses 
on the Development of the Christian 
Character. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 

'I'his Avork is from the pen of one of the bright- 
est lights of the American pulpit. AA^e scarcely 
knov.' of ai'.y living writer Avho has a finer com- 
nnnd of powerful thought and gloAving, impres- 
sive l-inguage than he. — [Dn. Sprague, Alb. Atl. 


LECTURES ON THE LORD’S PRAYER 
Tliird edition. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 

Their breadth of view, strength of logic, and 
stirring eloquence place them among the very best 
homilitical efforts of the age. Every page is full of 
suggestions as well as eloquence. — Ch. Parlor IMag. 

MISCELLANIES. New improved edi- 
tion. Price reduced. 12mo, Jirl.25. 

(T) 


VALUABLE WORKS PUBLISHED BY GOULD LIHCOLH, POSTON 


THE CRUISE OF THE NORTH STAR; 

A Narrative of the Excursion of Mr. Vanderbilt’s Partv, in her Voyage to England, 
Russia, Denmark, France, Spain, Jtaly, Malta, Turkey, Madeira, etc. By Rev. 
John Overton Choules, D. D. nith elegant Illustrations, etc. 12mo, cloth, 
gilt back and sides, .^1.50. 


VISITS TO, EUROPEAN CELEBRITIES. 

By the Rev. William B. Sprague, D.D. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

A series of graphic and life-like Personal Sketches of many of the most distinguished men and 
■women of Europe, with wdiom the author became acquainted in tlic course of several European tours, 
where he saw them in their ow'n homes and under the most advantageous circumstances. “It was my 
uniform custom, after every such interview, to take copious memoranda of the conversation, includ- 
ing an account of the individual’s appearance and manners ; in short, defining, as well as I could, 
the w’hole impression w^hich his physical, intellectual, and moral man had made upon me.” From 
the memoranda thus made, the material for the present instructive and exceedingly interesting 
volume is derived. Besides these “ pen and ink ” sketches, the work contains the novel attraction 
of a FAC SIMILE OF TUE SIGNATURE of each of the persons introduced. 


PILGRIMAGE TO EGYPT; EXPLORATIONS OF THE NILE. 

With Observations, illustrative of the Manners, Customs, etc. By Hon. J. V. C. 
Smith, M. D. With numerous elegant Engravings. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 


THE STORY OF THE CAMPAIGN. 

A complete Narrative of the War in Southern Russia. Written in a Tent in 
- the Crimea. By Major E. Bruce Hamley, author of “Lady Lee’s WidoAvhood.” 
With a new and complete Map of the Seat of War. 12mo, paper covers, 37^ cts. 

POETICAL WORKS. 


MILTON’S POETICAL WORKS. With 
Life and Elegant Illustrations. 16mo, 
cloth, $1.00; line cloth, gilt, $1.25. 


POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER 
SCOTT. With Life, and Illustrations on 
Steel. 16mo, cl., $1 ; line cl., gilt, $1.25. 


COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM COWPER. With a Life, and 
Critical Notices of his Writings. With new and elegant Illustrations on Steel. 
13mo, cloth, $1.00; tine cloth, gilt, $1.25. 


C0“ The above Poetical Works, by standard authors, are all of uniform size and style, printed on 
fine paper, from clear, distinct type, with new and elegant illustrations, richly bound in full gilt, and 
plain ; thus rendering them, in connection with the exceedingly low price at •wdxich they arc 
offered, the cheapest and most desirable of any of the numerous editions of these author’s works now 
in the market. 


LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF JOHN FOSTER. 

Edited by J. E. Ryland, with Notices of Mr. Foster as a Preacher and a Com- 
panion. By John Sheppard. Two volumes in one, 700 pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

In simplicity of language, in majesty of conception, in the eloquence of that conciseness which con- 
veys in a short sentence more meaning than the mind dares at once admit, — his writings arc 
unmatched. — [North British Review. 

GUIDO AND JULIUS. 

The Doctrine of Sin and the Propitiator; or, the True Consecration of the Doubter. 
Exhibited in the Correspondence of two Friends. By Frederick Augustus O. 
Tholuch, D. D. Translated by Jonathan Edwards Ryland. With an Intro- 
duction by John Pye Smith, D. D. 16mo, cloth, GO cents. 


NEW AND COMPLETE CONDENSED CONCORDANCE 

To the IIolv Scriptures. By Alexander Cruden. Revised and rc-edited by Rev. 
David King, L.L. D. Octavo, cloth backs, $1.25; sheep, $1.50. 

[81 


[June 1st, 


1853 


SUPPLEMENTART CATALOGUE 

OF 

VALUABLE WORKS, 

RECENTLY PUBLISHED. 


THE CA^IEL ; His Organization, Habits and Uses, considered 'vvith refer- 
ence to his Introduction into the United States. By George P. Marsh, late U. 
S. Minister at Constantinople. 16mo, cloth. 75 cents. 

This book treats of a subject of great interest, especially at the present time. It furnishes a more 
complete and reliable account of the Camel than any other in the language ; indeed, it is believed 
that there is no other. It is the result of long study, extensive research, and much personal observa- 
tion on the part of the author ; and it has been prepared with special reference to the experiment of 
domesticating the Camel in this country, now going on under the auspices of the United States gov- 
ernment. It is written in a style worthy of the distinguished author’s reputation for great learning 
and fine scholarship. 


HU. GRANT AND THE MOUNTAIN NESTORIANS. By Rev. 
Thomas Laurie. With a Portrait, Map of the Country, and Illustrations. 12mo, 
cloth. Price S1.25. Third edition revised. 

This edition has been thoroughly revised by the author, with the view of making the work scrupu- 
lously accurate. The map is the first correct one of the Nestorian country yet published. The work 
itself is one of the most permanently valuable of its class, while it presents a full view of the life and 
labors of the heroic missionary whose name it bears ; it also makes the reader familiar with the strik- 
ing features of a country which, both in ancient and modern times, has been memorable in history. 
It embraces the scene of Xenophon’s immortal Anabasis, the site of Nineveh, that mighty seat of 
ancient civilization, and the cities of Kars and Krzerum, so recently the scene of deadly strife 
between the Kussians and the Allies. 


ANALYTICAL CONCORDANCE TO THE HOLY SCRIPTURES; 


Ok, the BIBLE PRESENTED UNDER DISTINCT AND CLASSIFIED 

HEADS OR TOPICS. 

BY JOHN EADIE, D.D., LL. D., 

Author of “Biblical Cyclopedia,” “Ecclesiastical Cyclopedia,” “Early Oriental 
History,” “ Dictionary of the Bible,” etc. etc. One volume. Octavo. P.833, (in 
PRESS.) The subjects are arranged as follows, viz. : 


Agriculture, 
Animals, 
Architecture, 
Army, Arms, 

Body, 

Canaan, 

Covenant, 

Diet and Dress, 
Disease and Death, 
Earth, 


Family, 

Genealogy, 

God, 

Heaven, 
Idolatry, Idols, 
Jesus Christ, 
Jews, 

Laws, 

Magistrates, 

Man, 

Marriage, 


Metals and Minerals, 
Ministers of Religion, 
Miracles, 
Occupations, 
Ordinances, 


Sabbaths and Holy Days, 
Sacrifice, 

Scriptures, 

Speech, 

Spirits, 


Parables and Emblems, Tabernacle and Temple, 


Vineyard and Orchard, 
Visions and Dreams, 
War, 

Water. 


Persecution, 

Praise and Prayer, 

Prophecy, 

Providence, 

Redemption, 

The object of this Concordance is to present the entire Scriptures under certain elassified and ex- 
haustive heads. It differs from an ordinary Concordance, in that its arrangement depciuls not on 
words, but on subjects, and the verses are printed in full. Its plan does not bring it at all into com- 
petition with such limited works as those of Gaston and Warden ; for they select doctrinal topics 
principally, and do not profess to comprehend, as we do, the entire Bible. The work also contains 
a S3'noptical Table of Contents of the whole work, presenting in brief a system of biblical antiquitns 
and theology, with a very copious and accurate index. 

The value of this work to ministers and Sabbath school teachers can hardly be over-petimated ; 
and it needs but to be examined to secure the approval and patronage of every Bible student. 


AMOS LAW HENCE. 


DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE OF THE LATE AMOS LAW- 
RENCE ; with a brief account of some Incidents in his Life. Edited by his son, 
William R. Lawrence, M. D. With tine steel Portraits of Amos and Abbott 
Lawrence, an Engraving of their Birth-place, a Fac-simile page of Mr. Law- 
rence’s Hand-writing, and a copious Index. Octavo edition, cloth, ^1.50. Royal 
duodecimo edition, Sl-OO. 

This work was first published in an elegant octavo volume, and sold at the unusu- 
ally low price of $1.50. At the solicitation of numerous benevolent individuals who 
were desirous of circulating the work — so remarkably adapted to do good, especially 
to young gratuitously^ and of giving those of moderate means, of every class, an 

' opportunity of possessing it, the royal duodecimo, or “ cheap edition,’’^ was issued, 
varying from the other edition, only in a reduction in the size (allowing less margin), 
and the thickness of the paper. 

Witliin six months after the first publication of this work, twenty-two thousand 
copies had been sold. This extraordinary sale is to be accounted for by the character 
of the man and the merits of the book. It is the memoir of a Boston merchant, who 
became distinguished for his great wealth, but more distinguished for the manner in 
which he used it. It is the memoir of a man, who, commencing business with only 
$20, gave away in public and private charities, during his lifetime more, probably^ 
than any other jDerson in America. It is substantially an autobiography^ containing 
a full account of Mr. Lawrence’s career as a merchant, of his various multiplied chan- 
ties, and of his domestic life. 

“ We have by us another work, the * Life of Amos Lawrence.’ We heard it once said in tlie pulpit, 

‘ There is no work of art like a noble life,’ and for that reason he who has achieved one, takes rank 
V with the great artists and becomes the world’s property. We are proud of this book. We are 

WII.LIXG TO LET IT GO FORTH TO OTHER LANDS AS A SPECIMEN OF WHAT AMERICA CAN 
PRODUCE. In the old world, reviewers have called Barnum the characteristic American man. We 
arc willing enough to admit that he is a characteristic American man ; he is one fruit of our soil, 
but Amos Lawrence is another. Let our country have credit for him also. The good effect 
WHICH THIS Life may have in determining the course of young men to honor and 
VIRTUE is incalculable.”— Mrs. Stowe, in N. Y. Independent. s 

“ We are glad to know that our large business houses are purchasing copies of this work for each 
of their numerous clerks. Its influence on young men cannot be otherwise than highly salutary. 

As a business man, Mr. Lawrence was a pattern for the young clerk.”— Boston Traveller. 

“We are thankful for the volume before us. It carries us back to the farm-house of Mr. Law- 
rence’s birth, and the village store of his first apprenticeship. It exhibits a charity noble and active, 
while the young merchant was still poor. And above all, it reveals to us a beautiful cluster of sister 
graces, a keen sense of honor, integrity which never knew the shadow of suspicion, candor in the 
estimate of character, filial piety, rigid fidelity in every domestic relation, and all these connected 
with and flowing from steadfast religious principle, profound sentiments of devotion, and a vivid 
realization of spiritual truth.”— North American Review. 

“ We are glad that American Biography has been enriched by such a contribution to its treasures. 

In all that composes the career of ‘ the good man,’ and the practical Christian, we have read few 
memoirs more full of instruction, or richer in lessons of wisdom and virtue. We cordially unite in 
the opinion that the publication of this memoir was a duty owed to societ3\” —National Intel- 
ligencer. 

“ With the intention of placing it within the reach of a large number, the mere cost price is 
charged, and a more beautifully printed volume, or one calculated to do more good, has not been 
issued from the press of late years.”— Evening Gazette. 

“ This book, besides being of a dilferent class from most biographies, has another peculiar charm. 

It shows the inside life of the man. You have, as it were, a peep behind the curtain, and see Mr. 
Lawrence as he went in and out among business men, as he appeared on ’change, as he received 
his friends, as he poured out, ‘with liberal hand and generous heart,’ his wealth for the benoM » 
of others, as he received the greetings and salutations of children, and as he appeared in the bosom 
of his family at his own hearth stone.”— Brunswick Telegrafh. 

“ It is printed on new type, the best paper, and is illustrated by four beautiful plates. How it can 
bo sold for the price named is a marvel.”— Norfolk Co. Journal. 

“It was first privately printed, and a limited number of copies were distributed among the 
relatives and near friends of the deceased. This volume was read with the deepest interest by those 
w'm were so tavored as to obtain a coin-, and it passed from friend to f-iend as rapidly as it could be 
iC'd. Dr. Lawrence has yielded to tlu' gt'ueral wish, and made public the volume. It will now be 
w.-d'dy circulated, will certainly prove a standard work, and be read over and over again.” — Bos- 
ton Daily Advertiser. 


(P) 


VALUABLE WORKS. 


KNOWLEDGE IS POWER : a View of the Productive Eorces of 
Modern Society, and the Pesults of Labor, Capital, and Skill. By Charles 
Knight. American edition, -vvith Additions, by David A. Wells, Editor of 
“ Annual of Scientific Discovery,” etc. With numerous Illustrations. 12mo, 
cloth. $1.25. 

Tins work is eminently entitled to be ranked in that class styled “books for the people.” The au- 
thor is one of the most popular writers of the day, and has particularly distinguished himself by 
adapting his books to the masses. Sprung from the people himself, he knows their literary wants, 
and he knows also how to address them. His style is easy and racy, sufficiently polished for the 
most refined, while it is peculiarly fitted to captivate plain, unlettered, but thinking men. “ Knowl- 
edge is Power” treats of those things which “ come home to the business and bosoms” of every man, 
which affect the w’ealth and welfare of both nations and individuals. It is remarkable for its fullness 
and variety of information, and for the felicity and force with which the author applies his facts to 
his reasoning. It is as instructive as many books on the same subject from learned men, and as 
entertaining as it is instructive. The facts and illustrations are drawn from almost every branch of 
skilful industry — iron-mongery, glass manufacture, pottery, cotton and woollen manufactures, hat 
making, pin and needle making, printing, etc. It is a work, in short, W'hich the mechanic and arti- 
san of every description will be sure to read with a relish. To adapt it to this country, a portion 
of the industrial, historical and statistical matter, which was exclusively English and local, has been 
replaced, by the American editor, with information of a like character drawn from American sources, 
For similar reasons, many of the original engravings have been replaced by others, 

MY SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTERS ; or, The Story of my 
Education. By Hugh Miller, author of “Old Eed Sandstone,” “Footprints 
of the Creator,” “ My First Impressions of England,” etc. 12mo, cloth. $1.25. 

“ This autobiography is quite worthy of the renowned author. Ilis first attempts at literature, 
and his career until he stood forth an acknowledged power among the philosophers and ecclesias- 
tical leaders of his native land, are given without egotism, with a power and vivacity which are 
equally truthful and delightsome.”— Presbyterian. 

“ Hugh Miller is one of the most remarkable men of the age. Having risen from the humble walks 
of life, and from the employment of a stone-cutter, to the highest rank among scientific men, every- 
thing relating to his history possesses an interest which belongs to that of few living men. There is 
much even in his school-boy days which points to the man as he now is. The book has all the ease 
and graphic power which is characteristic of his writings.” — New York Observer. 

“ This volume is a book for the ten thousand. It is embellished with an admirable likeness of 
Hugh Miller, the stone mason — his coat off and his sleeves rolled up — with the implements of labor 
in hand — his form erect, and his eye bright and piercing. The biography of such e man will interest 
every reader. It is a living thing — teaching a lesson of self-culture of immense value.” — Phila- 
delphia Christian Observer. 

“ It is a portion of autobiography exquisitely told. He is a living proof that a single man may 
contain within himself something more than all the books in the world, some unuttered word, if he 
will look within and read. This is one of the best books Ave have had of late, and must have a 
hearty welcome and a large circulation in America.” — London Corresp. N. Y. Tribune. 

“ It is a work of rare interest ; at times having the facination of a romance, and again suggesting 
the profoundest views of education and of science. The ex-mason holds a graphic pen ; a quiet 
humor runs through his pages ; he tells a story well, and some of his pictures of home life might 
almost be classed with Wilson’s.” — New York Independent. 

“ This autobiography is the book for poor boys, and others Avhoare struggling with poverty and 
limited advantages ; and perhaps it is not too much to predict that in a few years it will become one 
of the poor man’s classics, filling a space on his scanty shelf next to the Autobiography of Frank- 
lin.”— New England Farmer. 

“ Lovers of the romantic should not neglect the book, as it contains a narrative of tender passion 
and happily reciprocated affection, which will be read with subdued emotion and unfailing interest.” 
— Boston Traveller. 

THE HALLIG ; or, The Sheepfold in the Waters. A Tale of 
Humble Life on the Coast of Schleswig. Translated from the German of Biernatz- 
ski, by Mrs. George F. Marsh. With a Biographical Sketch of the Author. 
12mo, cloth. $1.00 

The author of this work was the grand-son of an exiled Polish nobleman. His own portrait is 
understood to be drawn in one of the characters of the Tale, and indeed the whole work has a sub- 
stantial foundation in fact. In Germany it has passed through several editions, and is there regarded 
as the chef d’oDuvre of the author. As a revelation of an entire new phase of human society, it will 
strongly remind the reader of Miss Bremer’s tales. In originality and brilliancy of imagination, it 
is not inferior to those ; — its aim is far higher. The elegance of Mrs. Marsh’s translation will at once 
arrest the attention of every competent judge. 


THE POPULAii 

CYCLOP.^lDIA OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE. 

CONDENSED FROAI THE LARGER WORK. 

By JOHN KITTO, D. D., 

kVTUOR or HISTORY' OF Palestine,” “daily bible illustrations,” ETC* 

ASSlStBD BV NUM1.ROUS DISTINGUISHED SCHOLARS IN EUROPE AND AMERICA. 


Octavo, 812 j?p. With more than Three Hundred Illustrations. Price^ cloth^ .$3,oa 


Ts's Popular Biblical Cyclop.edia ok Literature is designed to furnish a Diction 
iSLT OK THE Bible, embodying the products of tlie best and most recent researches in Hb- 
Mcil literature, in which the scholars of Eurojie and America liave been engaged. 'I'he 
w *rk, tlie result of immense labor and research, and enriched by the contributions of wrttcn 
!>{ distinguished eminence in the various departments of sacred literature, lias lieen, by 
oniversal consent, pronounced the best work of its dass extant, and the one l>est suited to 
tlie advanced knowledge of the present day in all the studies connected with theological 
science. 

This work, condensed by the author from his larger work in two volumes, is not only in- 
tended for ministers and theological students, but is also jiarticularly adapted to jiarents, 
Babbath-school teachers, and the great body of the religious public. It lias been the author’s 
aim to avoid imparting to the work any color of scctan'an or den-ominationnl bins. On such 
points of ditTerence among Christians, the historical mode of treatment has been adopted, 
and care has been taken to provide a fair account of the arguments which have seemtxl 
most conclusive to the ablest advocates of the various oiiinions. The pictorial illustra- 
tions — amount ng to more than three hundred — are of the very highest order of the arL 

EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS. 

Fro7n Rev. J. J. Carruthers, D. ZJ., Pastor of Second Parish Cong. Church, Portland, Mo. 

By far the most valuable boon presented to the Christian public for many years. The 
condensation of the work, at little more than a third of the price, is, what it professes to 
be, a condensation, a reduction, not of ideas, but of words, without in the slightest degree 
ojs« jring the meaning of the gifted authors. 

From Rev. Daniel Sharp, D. D., Pastor of Thlra Baptist Church, Boston. 

A most valuable, as it was a much needed, publication. Every minister ought to have a 
copy of it on his study table. As a book of reference, shedding its collected light on almost 
all scriptural subjects^ and furnishing a brief, but clear and compendious history of the most 
remarkable events and personages mentioned in the Bible, it cannot fail of being a great 
help. Every lover of God’s word, not to say every Sabbath-school teacher, and every theo- 
Ufical student, will find treasures of information in tlie above-named work. 

From Rev. Joel Hawes, D. D., Pastor of First Congregational Church, Hartford, CL 

A capital work, containing a vast amount of information on a great variety of subjects. 
LA a very condensed, yet clear and interesting form. Every family and every Sabbath-schiA.] 
loaclier, wishing to understand the Bible, sJiould possess tiiis work. 

Frim Rzv W B. Sprague, D. D., Pastor of Second Presbyterian Church, Albany JV“ F 

i regard it as the mest important auxiliary to tlie study of the Scriptures, among the greet 
mass of people, of whit^ I have any knowledge. Every Sabbatli-school teacher, and indeed 
every Christian, who is able to do so, ought to possess himself of the work ; and the fact 
that such a work is in existence, may well be regarded as one of the favorable signs of the 
times In regard to the progress of evangelical knowledge. 

fVem Rev. J. B. Waterbury, D. D., Pastor of Bowdoin SU ( Congregational) Church, Eotton 

It is a most valuable book, suited to the wants of clergymen, and well adapted to aid 
Sabbath-school teachers in their responsible work. Every ftimily that can aflbrd it, would 
do well to possess themselves of so important and interesting a volume ; to which they 
stight refer i*' elucidating the Scriptures, and rendering their study only profitable buf 
deijS'hUuL 


Rll’-rO’S CYCLOPAEDIA OF BIBLICAL UTERATURiS 


Prom Rev. E. JY. Kirky Pastor of Mount Vemon Congregational Churchy Boston. 

The work is invaluable to the student of the Bible. VVe have no other in this depart- 
ment to be compared with it, for condensing the results of modern researches or Oriental 
antiquities and topography, which are so valuable in explaining the language of the Bible 

From Hon. Thomas S. fFilliamSy Hartfordy Ct. 

A mass of information, in a condensed form, highly important to tJiose who regard the 
sacr^ volume ; and to Sabbath-school teachers it will prove a most valuable assistant 

From Hon. Edward Everetty LL. D.y Boston. 

1 have kept it on my table, and have frequently referred to it ; and it has been a good deal 
read by different members of my family. I unite with them in the opinion that it is a val- 
uable work, well adapted for the above-named purpose. It appears to embody, in a popu- 
lar form, che results of much research, and will promote, I doubt not, the intelligent read- 
ing of tiid Scriptures. 

From Hon. Oeorge JV*. BriggSy LL. D.y Pittsfieldy Mass. 

I’o all who read and study the Bible it will be found to be a work of surpassing interest 
and utility. In families and in the hands of Sabbath-school teachers, its value and impor- 
tance can hardly be over-estimated. Its explanations of the habits, customs, and religious 
rites of the Hebrews and the surrounding nations, are clear and important ; and the light 
which it tlirows upon the biography, geography, and history of the Old and New Testa- 
ment develops in those inspired volumes new beauties, and inspires a liigher admiration 
for that Book of books, and a profounder reverence for its Divine Author. I wish there 
was a copy of it in every family in the land. 

From Jared Sparks y LL. D.y President of Harvard College. 

I am glad to possess the work ; and I enclose three dollars, which I understand to be the 
price of it. 

From Hon. Theodore Frelinghuyseny LL. D.y JVew Brunswicky JV*. J. 

I regard it as a very valuable help to the student of the Bible. It brings to the aid of the 
reading community, in an instructive and condensed form, a rich treasure of historical and 
biblical literature, prepared and arranged by some of the best miihds, and which could 
otherwise be gained only by a laborious and patient research, that very few have the lei- 
sure to give to the subject. No family would, I think, ever regret the purchase of a book so 
deserving of a household place. 

From Hon. John McLeany LL. D.y of Ohio. 

It is only necessary to look through this volume to appreciate its value. There is no work 
I have seen which contains so much biblical knowledge, alphabetically arranged under ap^ 
propriate heads, in so condensed a fonn, and which is sold so cheap. Under a leading 
word is to be found in this book, whether it relate to natural science or scriptural illus- 
tration, enough to satisfy every inquirer. Next to the Bible, this dictionary of it contains 
more interesting knowledge than any work of the same size, and it should be found in every 
family, in our public schools as well as in all our academies and colleges. 

From Hon. Simon Oreenleafy LL. D. 

A book that will prove highly useful to all persons engaged in the study of the Bible, 
or ill teaching its sacred truths to tlie young. I hope, therefore, that it will be widely 
circulated. 

From Hon. Robert C. Winthropy LL. D.y Boston. 

1 have examined with great pleasure your edition of Kitto’s Popular Cyclopredia of Bibli- 
cal Literature. It seems to me a most convenient and valuable aid to the study of the 
rjicriptiires, and I am glad that you have been able to publish it at so reasonable a price. 
It can hardly fail to <y»mmend itself to those who would teach, and to those who would 
Learn, something more than the mere letter of the inspired volume. 

From Henry T. Rip tyy D. D.y Author «/“ JTotes on the Scriptures y"^^ and Professor in J^ufton 

Theological Institution. 

It would be invaluable to Sabbath-school teachers, and of great utility to preachers It 
every where shows evidence of research, and is particular and accurate in its details. It 
employs api ropriate authorities, both less and more modern, as to questions of sacred 
criticism, of history and geography, and gives the reader the results of recent learned in- 
vestigations If the purpose of this book is gained, scriptural knowledge will he increased 


NEW WORKS 


THE TEACHER’S LAST LESSON. A Memoir of Martha Whiting, late 
of the Charlestown Female Seminary, consisting chiefly of Extracts from hei 
Journal, interspersed with Reminisences and Suggestive Reflections. By 
Catharine N. Badger, an Associate Teacher. With a Portrait, and an 
Engraving of the Seminary. 12mo. Cloth. $1.00. Second Edition. 

The subject of this Memoir was, for a quarter of a century, at the head of one ol 
the most celebrated Female Seminaries in the country. During that period she 
educated more than three tlyousand young ladies. She "was a kindred spirit to Mary 
Lyon, the celebrated founder of Mount Holyoke Seminary, with whom, for strength 
of character, eminent piety, devotion to her calling, and extraordinary success 
therein, she well deserves to be ranked. 

MT l^IOTHER: or Recollections of Maternal Influence. By a New Englani> 
Clergyman. 12mo. Cloth. 75 Cents. 

This is a new and enlarged edition of a work that was first published in 1849. It 
I)assed rapidly through three editions, when the sale was arrested by the embarrass- 
ment of the publisher. The author has now revised it, and added another chapter, 
BO that it comes before the public with the essential claims of a new work. . . . 

It is the picture of a quiet New England family, so drawn and colored as to subserve 
the ends of domestic education. The central figure is the author’s mother, around 
whom are grouped the various members of the family. Biograi)hical sketches and 
lessons of practical wisdom are so intermingled, that while the former relieve the 

latter, these in turn give force and significance to the sketches The 

author lias already distinguished himself in various walks of literature, but from 
motives of delicacy towards the still surviving characters of the book, he chooses for 

the present to conceal his name A writer of wide celebrity says of the 

book, in a note to the publisher — “ It is oue of those rare pictures, painted from life, 
with the exquisite skill of one of the old masters^ which so seldom present themselves 
to the amateur.’* 

♦ 

WORKS IN PREPARATION. 


MEMOIR OF OLD HUMPHREY. With Gleanings from his Portfolio, and 
a Pci*trait. 

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. A View of the Productive Forces of Modern 
So iety, and the Results of Labor, Capital and Skill. By Charles Knight. 
Mdli numerous Illustrations. American Edition. Revised, with additions, by 
7 avid A. Wells, Editor of the “ Annual of Scientific Discovery,” 

SACRED LATIN POETRY. CHIEFLY LYRICAL. Selected and arranged 
for use. With Notes and an Introduction by Richard Chenevix 1 rench. 
Revised, with important Additions by J. L. Lincoln, Professor of the Latin Lan- 
guage in Browm University. 

EXPOSITION OF THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. Drawn from the 
Writings of St. Augustine, with Observations. By Richard Chenevix Trench. 


CTT*- G.^ I^ AA^ld calHaitt<5tmoh to their extensive list of publications, 
embracing valuable works in Theclogy, Science, Literature and Art. 
Text Books for Schools and Colleges, and Miscellaneous, etc., in large 
variety, the productions of some of the ablest writers and most scientific men of the 
age, among which will be found those of Chambers, Hugh Miller, Agassiz, Gould, 
Guyot, Marcou, Dr. Harris, Dr. Wayland, Dr. Williams, Dr. Ripley, Dr. Kitto, 
Dr. Tw’eedie, Dr. Choules, Dr. Sprague, Newcomb, Banvaid, “ Walter Aimwell,” 
Biingener, Miall, Archdeacon Hare, and others of like stand ng and popularity, and 
to this list they are constantly adding. 












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